True Beauty
by Kitty le Fay
Summary: Arthur is challenged to a quest for true beauty, but it's his sister, Morgana, who finds it when she takes his place under the care of a mysterious scarred stranger and unexpectedly falls in love with the most unlikely of men. A Beauty and the Beast AU. Edwin/Morgana
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello, everyone and welcome to my very first full-length Merlin fic! **

**If you've read my fic, **_**Liar**_**, you've probably guessed by now that I love this pairing. It's unusual, but that's why I like it. I like that it has a bit of a Beauty and the Beast streak to it, which is why I decided to write this fic. Edwin and Morgana are a really fascinating crack pairing to me because not only do they have a bit of a Quasimodo/Esmeralda thing going on (which I will be writing too, eventually), but I think it would have been interesting to see Edwin's reaction if he did feel affections for Morgana. Would he try to help her when he discovers who she really is or would he be annoyed at his attraction to her distracting him from his plans? **

**If you don't remember Edwin, I'll refresh your memory. In the episode, **_**A Remedy to Cure All Ills**_**, Edwin cured Morgana in order to take revenge on Uther for having his parents burned when he was a child. He tried to save them, but was only left scarred by the fire and dedicated the rest of his life to vengeance against Uther. He's one of the more overlooked and, in my opinion, underrated of characters on Merlin. He was a really well-rounded and fascinating character who was brilliantly performed by Julian Rhind-Tutt and I think he should have stayed on a little longer, if not as a regular, but alas, Merlin had to chop his face off and ruin it. *le pout***

**Anyhow, I hope you like what you read and if you do, please let me know in a review and please let me know if I should continue this. Also, feedback is love!**

**I own nothing! If I did, I wouldn't be here.**

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><p><em>Camelot had fallen into ashes. The Great Purge had brought hundreds, perhaps thousands, to fall to their knees in mercy, for magic and all to do with the Old Religion was a crime punishable by death. The ruthless King Uther longed to rid his precious kingdom of magic, leading his army to hunt too many of his people down and have them burned. <em>

_Morgana watched helplessly as a husband, wife and their young son were soon to be three of those many victims, hunted in their own home. They had fled from Camelot at the news of the laws against magic, but Uther and his knights had caught them in an old castle in a forest. She tried to move, but her limbs were cold, stiff and heavy as though she were the statue watching over the land. She wanted to cry for the poor family, but she had no voice to cry with. _

_They were healers, these two victims. They'd been married for ten years and they had a son, whom Morgana was forced to watch as their once peaceful day was destroyed once a lit torch was thrown through their window. Then another and then another and then another until their own roof was being lit as well. They were trapped._

_The knights watched as the flames rose high and as much as Morgana tried to scream, there was not a peep to be heard from her. All that could be seen were the screaming faces of the boy's parents._

Morgana woke with a start, crying terribly as her frail breath trembled along with the rest of her body.

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><p>King Uther was preparing for that evening's banquet to honour the Great Purge, all those years ago. For those many years he had been fighting against the evils of magic since they had taken the life of his poor wife, Ygraine, at the birth of their son, Arthur. Morgana was only a year old at the time, so naturally, she would never understand the true dangers that magic held. She never did. Arthur, on the other hand, was a much better listener and set a much better example.<p>

Uther sometimes felt like crying to see how much his children had grown and regretted his wife never being able to watch them grow by his side. She would have been so proud of Arthur and Morgana would have been so much more of a lady if she knew what grace and gentility that her mother beheld.

But for now, he would have to compose himself. There was a banquet to hold, after all, and he had an example to set.

Arthur was ready and Uther was ready, but where was Morgana?

"Gweninvere," Uther called for Morgana's maidservant.

Gwenivere, or Gwen as most called her, was sent to Camelot from the South and was praised to be the finest server the kingdom would ever know. She'd been Morgana's maidservant for years and was closer to her than even Arthur was.

Gwen entered the king's chamber and curtseyed politely. "Milord."

"Where is Morgana?" Uther asked.

Gwen's usual gentle smile was slowly beginning to fade at this question.

"Milady is feeling ill, your majesty," she said. "She says she isn't well enough to attend the banquet tonight and Gaius has insisted she rest alone for the evening."

Uther's frustrated sigh sounded more like a growl than a sigh. This was typical of Morgana. He knew she was too strong-willed for her own good, but did she have to humiliate him so by publically opposing to his laws? She knew how important they were to him and to his people.

"Gaius insisted she rest alone?" he asked.

"Yes, your majesty."

"Has he prepared an draught for her nightmares, then?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"The same draught he spends all day working on?"

"Yes, your…er…"

Uther could see the dark girl trying to think of a convincing response, but before she could say anything, he pushed her away and marched to Morgana's chambers.

Morgana had been in her chambers all day, staring out the window, as the day grew darker. She couldn't turn away from the blood-caked block in the middle of the square. Her heart was still raced from the blow of the ax reaching the poor girl's neck. She was only seven years old. She began to wonder if the girl had a family or home to promise to return to. She still felt sick to think of how such an innocent life had to be taken. The poor girl did nothing to hurt anyone. She wasn't a thief or a murderer; she was punished for practicing magic. Nothing else. There wasn't even any proof that she ever did practice magic.

Morgana knew that she should have been used to this feeling by now, she'd watched Uther announce the executions of Druids and practitioners of magic for years and was never given a reason why.

She was too busy wondering why Uther hated magic so much as to kill even the most innocent to avoid it to be startled by him walking into her chambers.

"The banquet is in less than an hour, Morgana," he said. "You should be getting ready."

"I'm not well," Morgana murmured.

"Then I shall have Gaius prepare some medications to go with your meals for the evening. You should represent your kingdom."

Morgana huffed coldly.

"If this _were_ my kingdom," she said. "I wouldn't use an execution as a reason for celebration."

Uther looked to the chopping block that Morgana found so entrancing and looked sternly back to her, trying to catch her eye.

"As clever as you've always been, Morgana," he said. "You should have understood by now why I do this."

"But I do not," Morgana shot, finally looking to him with her beauty hidden by her anger. "That poor girl did nothing to hurt anyone."

"And you think she didn't have the potential to do so?"

"No, father, I don't think she did. She was seven years old!"

"She practiced magic, she could have caused bloodshed beyond even your belief by the time she grew older."

"And magic is your excuse? Is that so evil as being human to you?"

Uther was seething, but Morgana was not afraid. She knew that Uther was a powerful man, but her will was just as strong as his rage.

"Morgana," he growled, "you have not seen the evil that magic can do. When you do, you too will tire of this argument. Now, prepare for the banquet. If you will not respect my wishes, at least respect the kingdom's. I will send for your maidservant."

Morgana watched as her father left the room and wished with all her might that he would trip on the next step he took and fall on his thick skull. She wondered if his skull was even thick enough to crack and take his memory away from him so that he could forget his views on magic. It was a useless hope, but the thought at least cheered her up enough to let Gwen dress her in one of her finest gowns. She would wear blue this evening as opposed to Uther and Arthur's usual red. She wasn't feeling cheery enough to wear red.

At the banquet, Morgana refused to smile, as she knew that Uther would never scold his own child before his own kingdom. Even as every knight in the kingdom tried to make her smile with whatever "charm" they had, Morgana was too solemn to even grimace. Of course, Uther would have liked Morgana to humor them, for no man wanted a solemn wife.

One of the most handsome of the knights bowed before the king, prince and princess and did his best to at least bring half a smile to the sad princess.

"You may rise, Sir Lancelot," Uther commanded and Lancelot obeyed.

"Your majesty," he said, "if I may be so bold as to ask, will you permit me to cheer the poor Lady Morgana with a dance?"

Morgana avoided the eye that both Lancelot and Uther tried to charm her with.

"My dear girl," Uther chuckled. "Is Sir Lancelot so handsome to even make _you_ blush?"

"Either that, milord," she said, taking a careless sip from her goblet, "or I should advise my maidservant to lighten my rouge at the next banquet."

It took an awkward moment, but Arthur tried to lighten the moment by starting a laugh for Uther and Lancelot to follow. _Oh, that Morgana,_ their laughter seemed to say. _What a witty little charmer she is! _But Morgana was not laughing.

"I'm sure my daughter would be delighted to dance with you, Sir Lancelot," Uther said and nodded. "You have my permission."

Had the room not been crowded, Morgana would have used the knife by her plate to stab Uther repeatedly. Arthur could see her fuming and eyed her, allowing his eyes to say what he couldn't. _Dance with him and save yourself the trouble. _

She had no choice and accepted Lancelot's open hand.

Lancelot guided her to the floor as the band started a pavane. Morgana wished that she could find the ability to smile, for she didn't despise Lancelot at all. He was a good knight, a kind man and of course he was handsome. Even if she did have affections for him, she would never find it in her to smile, for she knew that he did not really love her. Morgana saw the way he looked at Gwen but what would a knight do in such high society with a servant for a wife?

When the music began, he looked to the other dancing pairs and among them was a very happy Sir Gwaine dancing with his wife, Lady Ragnell. When Lady Ragnell arrived in Camelot, she was not as beautiful as she was now, but it must have been her happiness that had brought out her inner beauty. Her bright smile only made her even lovelier. She was a kind and spirited soul with a smile that could light up even the darkest of nights and Sir Gwaine wouldn't have had anyone else for his wife. The two had been married almost a year now and Morgana couldn't have been happier for them, but at the same time she couldn't help but feel jealousy. She never saw them together without those great smiles on their faces and she longed to be just as happy as they were. If she had someone, anyone in the world–friend, family or lover–who loved, respected and understood her as dearly as Gwaine did Ragnell, she would have at least a reason to be happy.

"I see your interests turn to another, milady," Sir Lancelot said.

Morgana gave a weak smile. "It isn't that, Sir," she insisted. "I was only admiring how happy they look."

"You wish you had their happiness?"

"Some kind of happiness, yes."

"And what, pray tell, would make a princess smile when nothing in the world will?"

Sir Lancelot was a handsome knight, but Morgana knew he wasn't the smartest. He tried, Gods knew he tried, but she wondered if he knew that any other woman would take that question as an insult.

"Why, justice and liberty among the politics of the kingdom, sir," she answered, trying to sound cheerful, but failing quite miserably. "Don't you think the people of Camelot deserve that after all they've been through and all the labor they must do and the taxes they must pay?"

Lancelot laughed a nervous laugh.

"I am only a knight, Lady Morgana," he said. "I haven't much power over the law."

"That's a shame. If_ I_ were a man, I would risk even my own knighthood to better the politics of Camelot."

"But you are a woman."

"Yes, I know."

"And you are a very beautiful woman at that, milady."

Morgana looked at Lancelot and recognized the warm look on his face and she hated to see it on Lancelot. She could probably memorize the poetic words she'd heard from other men who had asked what he was going to ask now. She knew that he was a nice man and she did like him, but she hated to have to break his heart.

_Please,_ she prayed. _Please don't say it._

"Lady Morgana," he said softly. "Will you do me the honour of…?"

The music had finished before Lancelot could say anything else and the entire banquet applauded. Morgana escaped the applause and left poor Lancelot alone as though she had vanished without a trace. She didn't look back as she walked away. She couldn't bear to look at him or anyone else. She entered her chambers and tried her hardest to sleep, but she wasn't sure if it was her tears or her fear of another nightmare that kept her from sleeping.

Before Morgana could sleep a wink, she heard a knock on her door and opened it to find Arthur looking concerned. It was a new expression to see on his face, but the truth was that as selfish as Arthur was, he did care for Morgana and wanted to make sure she was alright.

"Arthur," Morgana greeted.

"Morgana," Arthur bowed. "You left early."

"I wasn't feeling well."

"I doubt that very much."

Morgana looked down from Arthur's eyes. She knew she should have known better than to lie to her own brother. He knew her well enough to know when she was lying.

"You're troubled," he stated and Morgana nodded. Arthur didn't even need to ask why she was so troubled. Time and again, he would agree with Uther's laws, but he knew how Morgana felt about them.

"I'm sorry, Morgana," he said sincerely. "I wish I could cheer you up, but I can't change my father's mind of the laws in any way and I can't bring that girl back."

Morgana nodded sadly.

"If there's anything I can do to at least make you smile, I'd move mountains to do it and you know I can do that."

Morgana chortled. "Are you so sure?"

"Of course! I'm the prince of Camelot, aren't I?"

"Yes, but I should remind you that I am its princess and know well enough that you cannot, no matter what your arrogance may tell you."

Arthur smiled to see that as depressed as she was now, at least she hadn't lost her wicked sense of humor. She may have insulted him, but at least she was joking at _something._

"You _are _alright, though, aren't you?"

Morgana nodded. "I just need some rest, but thank you for your concern."

Arthur nodded in return and thought a moment.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "I have a quest to take tomorrow. Sir Gwaine has set up a challenge for me."

"What kind of challenge?"

"It is a quest to find true beauty."

"True beauty? However did you come across a challenge like that?"

"I'm not quite sure how it happened, really," Arthur began, "but it did. The knights and I were in training and I came to talk to Gwaine of his wife, the Lady Ragnell. I may have accidentally let slip of her...appearance...when she came here. As a result, it seemed to hurt him and he said 'You know nothing of true beauty, do you, your highness?' I wasn't really sure what he meant by that, but he just went on a rant on how much of it the Lady Ragnell held. Then he said 'Since you cannot find true beauty here, will you face a journey far off to find it?' I thought he was joking, but then he challenged me. You know Gwaine, he's rarely serious about anything, but he was serious when he spoke to me and said that he challenged me to a quest on the search for true beauty."

Morgana's eyes widened in curiosity. She never knew Sir Gwaine to be so serious. He was often a light-hearted man with a lust for life, which he and his wife shared, but she never imagined him to challenge a fellow knight to anything further than a jousting match or the drinking games he had such reputations on at the tavern.

Arthur continued: "I still don't really know what that means, but I shall try and just to make you fell even the slightest bit better, I'll bring back a gift for you."

"A gift?" Morgana grimaced.

"Yes, a gift. Anything to make you feel better. What will you have? A new dress? A new book? Jewelry?"

Morgana smiled at her brother's gesture and shook her head. "I have enough dresses and jewelry and I've plenty of books to read as well."

"What will you have, then? I won't go until you ask for something."

"Do you promise?"

Arthur laughed. "I promise. Ask for anything and I shall fight all evils to bring it to you."

Morgana thought a moment. There wasn't much that she could ask for, really. She already had more than she could ask for, but she could use something new in her room. Something fresh and lovely. Something that she could look to with a smile on her face before she slept.

"A rose," she said at last.

Arthur burst out laughing. "A _rose?_ I offer anything in the world, fineries and tools for knowledge and all you ask for is a _rose?"_

"Yes. I'll have nothing else."

Arthur stopped laughing and smiled at his sister. It was always useless to argue with Morgana. Times came and went for him to be such a lady, but of course she would respond that he would never be clever enough to be a lady. He lifted his arms in surrender.

"A rose it is, then."

Morgana thanked her brother as he hugged her and kissed her cheek before bidding her goodnight. He left happy to see her smiling again and vowed to himself that he would travel great mountains, vast forests and high seas to find the perfect rose for her. He could return a broken man, perhaps years from now, but he would be sure that the perfect rose would reach Morgana if his life depended on it.


	2. Chapter 2

Morning came and the entire kingdom had been standing high in hope with prayers for their prince's journey ahead. He watched as the daylight rose before him while his servant, Merlin, dressed him in his finest armor and gilded him with Camelot's greatest weapons. His challenge to find true beauty would be a rough one, but Arthur was prepared for anything. At the gate, Arthur stood proudly as the kingdom bowed down to him like a God.

"Safe journey, Arthur," Uther said, placing a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. "Be sure to return home safely."

"I will, father," he promised and then turned to Morgana, who hung her head the way she did last night. Arthur placed his two fingers under her chin and lifted her face to look him in the eye.

"I will return with that rose, Morgana," he vowed. "I made a promise."

Morgana smiled. "I know you did. Just be careful."

"With the rose?"

Morgana laughed. "With the rose, yes."

Arthur smiled and kissed his sister goodbye before he left for his quest. He rode his steed proudly as his people wished him luck and courage.

He rode his steed, Anir, through hills, mountains, forests, waters, winds and storms to find wherever this answer would be. He refused to either rest or eat for the quest was more important even than himself. No matter his weakness, exhaustion or hunger, Arthur was determined to complete this quest and return home with Morgana's rose.

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><p>Days passed and turned into weeks and then months. Arthur only slept once or twice a week and ate even less. All he could eat and drink were small berries from bushes, old scraps from left-behind peasant picnics and waters from springs. His body was beginning to grow heavier by the day and soon the day came when he couldn't even hold his armor anymore. When he looked into the water, he barely recognized the man looking up at him. His face was filthy, sunken and dried, almost like a ghoul or a living corpse. He only had to move his hand to his head and find the gaunt and dirty man in the water doing the same to realize that it was his reflection.<p>

Soon, the day came when even Anir could take no more and fell to the ground, throwing Arthur off his back. Arthur tried to help the noble steed back up, but felt his heart stop to see that the horse had stopped breathing. Arthur sighed sadly and laid a hand on his noble steed's neck one last time. He'd gone through great journeys and battles with this fine horse and it hurt to let him go, but Arthur had to journey on.

On foot, Arthur could barely make three days, feeling his body grow weaker by the minute. Heavy rain poured on him and the thunder was raging. Arthur was close to losing hope. He feared he might never take his father's place as king or ever give Morgana that precious rose he had promised. He then was prepared to die until at last there was paradise.

There was an old castle ruin before him. It was barely a home, more of a home to plants, rats, spiders and other critters from the woods, but it would at least keep him dry from the rain.

When Arthur forced the heavy door open, he did not expect what he saw before him.

Ruined though the castle was and invaded by vines of roses and tree branches, there were perhaps a thousand strange fineries laid out before him. There were dozens upon dozens of books that Morgana would swoon over and fineries that would drive Uther mad. There was even a steaming meal laid out on a table before him. There was a goblet of wine, fine meats, warm bread and fresh fruits and vegetables on a plate for him to indulge in, but there were no candles nor a fireplace lit.

Arthur fought the temptation to gobble down the entire feast, fearing he would be stealing someone else's dinner. Someone lived here and happily too.

"Hello?" Arthur called. No reply.

"Is someone here?"

Again, no reply.

"I hate to intrude, but I've been traveling for so long. My horse died of exhaustion on the way just three days ago. I just need a place to stay for one night and I promise I'll be gone soon after."

Once again, Arthur heard no reply, but heard the rustling of wind behind him and turned to find a note on the table by the plate and goblet. Arthur picked up the note and smiled to read the odd note say:

_My home can be yours as well for the night. Take everything you need, but take nothing away._

_E._

Arthur wasn't sure if he would ever meet this _E_ person, but he figured him a strange man of little conversation or threat.

He sat down for what felt like the first time in years and took his first bite of the bread. Bread was a simple kind of food, but Arthur had never felt more grateful for it. Perhaps his hunger was an even better sauce than the actual sauce before him, but the warmth and moistness of the bread felt like heaven to him. Even the strong flavor of the meat was overwhelming, followed by the watery vegetables and intoxicating wine. It took less than five minutes before Arthur had finished the entire meal and never in his life did he feel so grateful of the feeling of his stomach nearing the point of bursting.

Arthur began to feel drowsy, possibly from how quickly he drank the wine. He struggled to stand up and find a place to lie down. As he stood up, he saw a blurred shadow with a raven resting on its shoulder. The shaded shape was gesturing at him to follow it. Arthur obeyed and the shadow led him to a fine bedroom. Much like the rest of the castle, the room was covered in rose vines, tree branches, mushrooms and cobwebs with rats, insects and spiders scuttling about, but as far as Arthur was concerned at this point, a bed was a bed and he hadn't slept in one for God only knew how long.

Arthur turned to thank the shadow, but saw nothing. It was as if the shadow was never there to begin with.

"Whoever you are," Arthur called, his voice slightly slurred by the wine. "I want to thank you for your hospitality."

At that, Arthur fell asleep almost instantly.

Arthur awoke the next morning feeling the sun burn his eyes open. His head was throbbing until he found a cup of liquid at his bedside table with a note. Arthur dragged his arm to read the note.

_Drink this. It will help your sickness,_

_E._

Arthur wasn't one to trust a stranger, but he felt he could trust this mysterious _E. _At the very first sip of the medicine he felt fresh and new, as though he'd been born again. He crawled out of bed and wandered the palace; glad to find a fine breakfast waiting for him at the table with another note of offering.

Arthur made a mental note to honor this _E_ person when he got home.

After breakfast, he wandered the rest of the castle. He began to grow curious of how someone would have come to live here and how he would live here at all. How did he find such fine foods? Where did his books and supplies come from? How would he deal with winter? It was autumn now and getting closer to the winter frost. What would _E _do then? Even Camelot froze over at Christmastime. However in God's name _E_ survived this place on his own, Arthur already admired him for it.

In the gardens, Arthur looked upon what the Garden of Eden must have looked like. There were more flowers, herbs, fruits and vegetable plants than he could ever name. No wonder _E_ had so much fine food to eat. If the people of Camelot knew how to plant the way _E_ did, the starvation among the poor would be long over.

Arthur knew that he was a complete man when he saw the rose bush before him. This _E _must have had an excellent gardener if he could keep roses alive during the autumn. He found himself surrounded by the most beautiful roses of all the colors of the rainbow. He only wished he could take the lot home and see the look on Morgana's face when she saw them all. She would be ecstatic. Still, he could only take one on his journey home, especially since he had no horse to help him. Morgana only needed one rose, after all, but there were so many of them. Arthur felt dizzy trying to chose just one of so many perfect roses of so many beautiful colors until he fell upon the one perfect red rose. Red seemed the perfect color for Morgana.

Passionate.

Fiery.

Loving.

Arthur's hand was drawn to the rose as through it were controlling him, but when he tried to pluck it from the bush he felt the stem's thorns prick him. He called out in the sudden pain and licked the blood off his finger. Still, Arthur was determined to bring Morgana's rose home. He took a knife from his boot and cut the stem of the rose.

Before Arthur could inhale the rose's perfume, a great animalistic roar came from behind him. He heard a growl of some ancient language and felt himself being thrown against the wall with an inhuman amount of force. Arthur shook his head from the shock and saw the shape of the shadow he saw the night before. This time, he saw the shape's face. He wasn't just a shadow, but a man with messed hair of a faded reddish blonde and the right side of his face was melded to deformity.

"_Blackheart!"_ the deformed man growled. _"I've given you everything that you needed, given you the finest respect and hospitality when you came to my home and you repay me by stealing my rose? I should have your head on a pole and your limbs on a plate!"_

Arthur had faced frightening knights, beasts and other dangers, but never did he expect to feel as frightened by them as he was of this man. _This_ _was_ _E? _

"Forgive me," Arthur begged. "Sir, I'm here on a quest. One of the knights of my kingdom challenged me to find true beauty and…"

The deformed man scoffed. "And stealing my rose is your answer to your quest, eh? Taking all _my_ true meaning of beauty will complete your task? Is _that_ how you thank me for my hospitality?"

"No! I swear, I don't mean to offend you in any way at all, sir. I only wanted to bring home a rose for my sister to prove I'd make it home safely."

The deformed man gave a terrible laugh. "Your sister values beauty over your life, then?"

Arthur panted as the stranger circled him. "I promised a gift. She insisted she had enough already, but I wanted to make her happy. She only asked for a rose and I swore I'd risk my life to bring one home."

"And what, pray tell, was that a promise?"

Arthur remembered the vow he made to himself that he would give anything to bring Morgana's rose to her and he nodded. _E_ scoffed again.

"You love your sister very much, then?" he said. "More than even yourself."

Arthur wasn't sure of that, but it seemed to help him to say "Yes."

The deformed stranger then turned to Arthur and locked his eyes with his own. Arthur suddenly felt his heart calm and his breath began to slow. This must have been a spell that he was casting, but all of Arthur's father's laws against magic mattered very little to him for the moment.

"Where do you come from, boy?" he asked.

"Camelot, sir."

"You've a good name, then?"

"Prince Arthur Pendragon."

The stranger looked impressed. He gave a terrible smile that made Arthur's blood run cold and would haunt him to his death. "A prince, you say…and a Pendragon, no less."

Arthur nodded, afraid to say anything else. The stranger offered his hand for Arthur to take. Arthur was hesitant, wondering if that hand would lead him to his death. If it did, he knew how to fight and it might have been a test to pass on his quest. He slowly lifted his trembling hand to the strangers and felt him drag him back up to his feet.

The stranger still kept Arthur's eyes locked with him and finally spoke again.

"You may return home to bring your dear sister her rose," he said, "but only on the condition that you or your sister will return here within a week."

"My sister? But…"

"If you do not return by that time, I _will_ find you."

Arthur's eyes widened and he felt his body stiffen, a typical reaction for a frightened knight. Hesitant, he nodded. Edwin's twisted smile caused ice to run up and down Arthur's back.

"On your way, I have a message for your king: tell him that Edwin Muirden sends his regards and tell him to remember that name."

Arthur nodded and the stranger turned way from him.

"Go home, then. Give the rose to your beloved sister and come back to me within the week."

"But I haven't a horse to travel by."

"Yes, you do."

Arthur's brow furrowed, but held the rose close to him as he rose to find a way out of the castle. At the front, Arthur gasped to find the most magnificent white horse waiting for him, bridled and saddled for a long journey home. He'd never seen such a great horse in his life. Camelot would pride itself for a horse this fine.

* * *

><p>As soon as Arthur mounted the horse and rode it homewards, he couldn't believe the speed and agility it had. It only took a day to return to Camelot against the months it took to find Edwin Muirden's castle.<p>

When he returned home, the people of the kingdom looked as though they'd seen a ghost. There must have been rumors spreading of the prince's death, but here he was, alive and well as he finally rode home. He looked up at the castle in the most heartbreaking relief to see home one last time and at the window, he saw a solemn pale face reading a book.

Morgana looked out the window to see what the gasps outside were about. She felt her heart leap at the sight of her brother and she ran as fast as she could out the door, caring little for how decent or indecent she might be.

Arthur saw his sister running towards him with blissful tears as he dismounted the horse and opened his arms for a tight hug. He didn't even care that her grip had stolen half his breath. He was just happy to see Morgana for the first and last time for so long.

"Oh, Gods, thank you!" Morgana sobbed. "Thank you! Arthur, I was so afraid you were dead!"

Arthur hushed his sister and fought back his tears. At last, they parted and Arthur took a silk token from his pouch and unwrapped it to reveal the rose that he had promised. Morgana's gasp sounded somewhere in between a laugh and a sob, but she hugged her brother again and thanked him wholeheartedly just for coming home safely. As happy as Arthur was, however, he couldn't help but feel surprised to find that the rose hadn't been crushed on his journey.

When Morgana guided Arthur inside, Uther, like the rest of Camelot, looked as though he'd seen a ghost. Even the great King Uther Pendragon was in tears to find his son returned home after so long.

"My son!" he cried and held the young prince in his arms as though he were a child again. "I feared you were gone!"

Arthur laughed nervously. "Oh, you won't get rid of me that easily."

Morgana heard the fear in Arthur's voice and knew something was very wrong. Hardly anything in the world frightened Arthur.

Uther prepared a fine meal for Arthur's return. Arthur struggled to eat. Surely, he must have been starving after that journey, Uther and Morgana thought, but now he barely had even an appetite for his favorite meal. Morgana began to worry. Arthur was rarely troubled or frightened by anything, but his journey left him shaken. He may not have found the answer to Gwaine's riddle, but he was alive.

"Arthur," Morgana cooed. "Will you please tell me what is troubling you? I've never seen you like this before."

Arthur looked at his sister solemnly as if he'd never look on her lovely face again. He then looked to his also worried father in the same way.

"I can't hide anything from you, can I?" he said, trying to laugh and assure that he still had his sense of humor, but no one was laughing.

"Arthur," Morgana pleaded. "What happened on your journey?"

Arthur sighed heavily. "I can't tell you how much it pains me to say this," he began. "But…Oh, God help me…as of tomorrow, I may never see either of you again."

Uther choked on his wine. Morgana grew speechless as a servant helped Uther's wine go down. It took all of Arthur's strength to speak again. He told his father and sister about the castle he'd stopped by and the stranger who let him bring Morgana's rose home on the condition that either he or Morgana would go to his castle to stay within the week. Uther's eyes widened to the size of two saucers and Arthur could see him fuming from within. Morgana, still speechless, looked to the rose that Arthur had risked his life for.

"This man also sent a message for you, father," he continued. "He said that his name was Edwin Muirden and that he sends his regards. He also wants you to remember that name."

For the first time, Arthur saw fear in his father's eyes. His face had gone as pale as death. He no longer recognized his own father's usually proud face.

"_I _will go."

Arthur felt his heart leap as he turned to see his sister standing tall before him. Her expression was as still as stone as she kept her eyes locked with Arthur's and not even Uther's protests could change her. Was she mad? Did she wish for death?

"Morgana, you can't," Arthur scolded. "You don't know what this man can do."

"But what he may do to you may be far worse for Camelot," she protested. "I asked for this rose, Arthur, and it is my fault that you've suffered this much over it. I will not let it be the cause of your death."

"I will not let you die for my sake!"

"And I will not let you for mine!"

Morgana turned to her now frightened to death father.

"Father," she pleaded. "Whoever this Edwin Muirden is, he must at least have some heart …"

"Oh!" Arthur scoffed before she could finish. "What makes you think a man like _that_ would have any heart?"

"He let you bring me this rose, didn't he?" Morgana replied. "Would anyone so heartless allow a dying man see his family one last time?"

Arthur was left dumbstruck as Morgana continued.

"Father, please, let me go. What will become of Camelot if its only male heir were to die for the sake of a rose?"

"You are the princess of Camelot, Morgana." Uther tried to sound stern, but his voice was shaking with fears and tears. "You are also inherited to the throne and you will not go."

"Who will, then? You can't go and leave Camelot without a king and Arthur would leave Camelot without an heir if he left. I don't think this man is so cruel as to do any harm to me, otherwise he would not have given me this rose."

But Uther stood tall before her and his voice began to boom.

"_I will not lose anyone else!"_ he bellowed. "I lost your mother when Arthur was born and I will _not_ lose you! Either of you!"

Uther stormed off, leaving the room silent enough to hear his faint sobs. Neither Arthur nor Morgana knew what to say. A decision on who would go? A word of love or farewell? Arthur felt this silence killing him and went to pack before he left his home for good, leaving his stubborn sister to her thoughts and her rose.

Not even Camelot's finest knight would ever be strong enough to change Morgana's mind. She marched off to her room and sat by her writing table and began to write her final letter of farewell. She only took the rose that Arthur had given her on her trip as a reminder of her home and family. She took the horse that Arthur was given, said her last goodbye to her home and rode on into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur was packed and ready to say his final farewells. The entire kingdom wore their mourning black, drying their red and teary eyes as they wished their prince well on what may be his last journey. Uther tried to keep his composure, as did Arthur himself, but Arthur now wondered if he'd ever told his father enough just how much he loved both him and his sister.

In fact, where _was _Morgana?

Arthur asked Gwen to search for her. Gwen bobbed a curtsey and obeyed. She tried the hallways she usually walked through or the library where she would be found reading, but perhaps her nightmares had caused her to oversleep even as her brother was leaving. She knew it must have been difficult for her to say goodbye to her brother. Gwen knocked on the door to Morgana's bedchambers.

"Milady?" No response. She knocked again. "Milady?"

Still no response and Gwen searched for her key only to find the door unlocked and Morgana was nowhere to be found.

"Lady Morgana?"

No response. All Gwen found was a note left on the Lady's bed written in her hand.

* * *

><p>It took a day for Morgana to reach the castle that Arthur spoke of. She stood before a half-ruined castle wrapped in rose vines, branches, mushrooms and cobwebs. When she opened the door, she saw no one there, but there were rats, snakes, spiders and insects everywhere. She called for someone, but all she could hear was the wind outside and critters scuttling around. The air was thick with dust, but the vines of roses slithering along every wall seemed to overpower the stench. She could even taste it in the back of her throat if she didn't breathe carefully. There were books shelved, bottles full and tools for alchemy set everywhere, but Morgana couldn't help but ask herself how could anyone <em>live<em> here? Perhaps she would be used to it in time, but she had to wonder how one could survive here.

_Well,_ she thought to herself. _Edwin does. Perhaps he can teach me to live this way too, eventually._

In the old dining room he saw a table set for two before her, but there was not a single candle to be seen, the fireplace was not lit and there were no rocks to be seen to start a spark.

_Odd. He sets a fine meal for two, yet there's no fire to keep us warm? _

But strangely enough, the place was very warm and Morgana felt little need in her cloak. This was especially strange when she looked up to see a broken ceiling above her.

_What do you suppose he does he do about that in the rain or snow?_

Looking back down to her table, she saw that a succulent meal that caused her to mouth water was placed between the two seats. She wasn't sure how to feel about eating a meal with a stranger. Then again, she'd never met a stranger before, so how would she know? Morgana stepped cautiously towards the table and saw a note by her plate saying: _Welcome to my home._

_Heartless, Arthur said, _she thought with a smile. _At least this Edwin is more polite than _he_ will ever be._

Morgana placed the note by her side, sat down before the table and waited.

Soon, she heard the creaking of an open door behind her and felt her body grow stiffer at the sound of every step that came closer. She couldn't breathe. She tried to, but when she sensed him near, she could only hold her breath with Arthur's rose close to her breast. She felt his eyes searching her, but she was too afraid to look up to them. She was as still as a statue as Edwin Muirden observed her.

"Have you come of your own will, milady?" he asked. His voice was soft and gentle, but stern and grounded.

Morgana struggled to find her voice. "Yes," she piped.

"Then you've nothing to fear. You are much wiser than your brother. He told me of you, but he never told me your name. Will you?"

Morgana nodded, but did not look to the stranger's direction. "Lady Morgana."

"Le Fae?"

Morgana's brow furrowed. "Pendragon."

"You look like a Fae to me."

Morgana didn't know what to say to this. Was he insulting her by labeling her as one of the faery folk or was it his compliment to her? Did he not know of the laws against magic? She tried to laugh it off and modestly assure him that she was not a Fae.

When Edwin sat before Morgana, she gasped to see his face. The right side of his face had been terribly burned and melded to deformity. She knew it was rude to stare, but she couldn't stop wondering what had happened to him and where she'd seen his face before.

"Does my face frighten you?" he asked as though he could read her thoughts.

Morgana was startled out of her trance. She wasn't sure what to say. She could tell the truth and say yes, which might earn his respect for her honesty or he might be offended. She could lie and say he was handsome, but her expression now would say otherwise and he would know she was lying. What would he do to her if he were offended by her reaction to his face?

A hesitant "Yes" finally escaped her lips and she prepared herself for whatever tempter Edwin might have, but he only smiled and told her: "It frightens me too sometimes."

Morgana found the ability to breathe again and even found herself laughing a little. At least Edwin had a sense of humor, but then she wondered if that was even a joke.

_Caw! Caw! Caw!_

Morgana jumped in fear at the screeching of a raven that flew above her head. The great black bird landed in the center of the table. Morgana's eyes were wide and her heart raced. The creature was enormous and she did her best to avoid its sharp beak or claws, but Edwin only chuckled.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "Ambrosius only wanted to say 'hello.'"

Morgana caught her breath at last. The creature had a name?

"Ambrosius?" was all she could say.

"My old friend," Edwin said as the raven landed on his shoulder.

"It's…he's your friend?"

"Of course he is. When you live on your own in a place like this, you learn to befriend anyone and anything willing to accompany you."

Morgana looked around and saw the rats, insects and spiders scuttling around. She hadn't many friends herself, save for her maidservant, but to converse with critters such as these? She couldn't understand it. Perhaps if she were used to disease, she would.

"Forgive me," Morgana said. "I am not used to this kind of shelter."

"I know," Edwin replied, feeding a piece of bread to the raven. "I understand that this all might seem strange to you, just as I may seem strange, but it is home to me. My only hope is that one day, perhaps you will feel at home here too."

Morgana wasn't sure what to say to this. Instead, she looked around again and wondered how anyone would live here.

"If I may ask," she said. "Why this place? There are plenty of nicer places. Why do you choose to live here?"

For a moment, Morgana worried if she had offended him, but Edwin only shrugged. Certainly not a graceful gesture from any gentleman. "I've got to live _somewhere_," he said simply. "And I like to be close to the herbs that I study. The animals are better companions too."

"You don't think people are good companions?"

Edwin shook his head and suddenly turned to a darker tone. "Animals are more honest. They don't lie or deceive the way people do."

"You don't like people, then?"

"No."

"And you don't like me?"

Edwin smirked. "You haven't lied to or deceived me yet, milady. You needn't worry about my distaste."

Morgana wasn't sure why her face was growing hot. She looked down to her plate to see she hadn't eaten anything and realized how hungry she was from her travels. For a moment, she was about to take a bite, but stopped herself. There could have been something in the food or wine.

"You should eat," Edwin told her. "You're looking frail from your journey here."

"How do I know the food isn't poisoned?"

Edwin laughed. "Because if I wanted to kill you, milady, I would have done so the moment you had arrived. Trust me, I mean you no harm. Eat."

She paused a moment and hesitantly took a bite of the bread. At the first bite, she suddenly felt her own body grow warmer from the cold outside. It was hot and moist with just enough flavour to keep her full for a week. She then proceeded with the meats and vegetables, trying her hardest not to gobble the entire plate down. When she drank the wine, she felt all her troubles suddenly. It must have been ages old. They did not speak for a while, simply content with the meal, but then a question began to rise in Morgana's head and it would not leave her be.

"Sir?" she questioned. "If I may be so bold to ask: why did you bring me here? You gave the choice of my brother staying her or me, but why not anyone else?"

Edwin paused.

For a moment, Morgana could have sworn she had seen some kind of fear in his eyes by the way he looked at her. He looked back to his meal and said nothing.

"Tell me," Morgana said.

Edwin didn't even look Morgana in the eye. He simply shrugged and told her: "I should think it was obvious."

Morgana's brow furrowed. "No. No, it isn't."

"Look around you. What do you see?"

Morgana did what she was told and looked to see the abandoned and half-burned sanctuary that Edwin called home. There were the vines, cobwebs and mushrooms growing on the branches that slithered their ways through the walls.

Edwin spoke before Morgana could answer: "You see nothing and no one. I live here on my own, Morgana. I need a companion that I can share my home with and this home needs a lady to keep it company. I…I need a wife."

Morgana felt her heart and stomach leap and shake when Edwin said this. The butterflies in her stomach began to rage when he came closer. She refrained herself from backing away in her own chair when he knelt down before her and took her hand in his. Her only comfort in this moment was how warm his rough hands were.

"Lady Morgana," he said. "Will you marry me?"

Morgana snatched her hand away from Edwin's. She shook her head, frowning.

"No," she said. "I've not even known you a day."

Edwin's face fell and for a moment Morgana wanted to take back what she said, hating to have hurt someone who had been so kind to her. But he nodded with a weak smile curving his half-twisted lips.

"I see," he said. "Alas…but thank you for your honesty."

"Forgive me…"

"There's nothing to forgive, but I _will_ ask you every evening. For now, though, it is late. I shall show you to your room."

Edwin stood and offered his hand to Morgana. She was hesitant and her hand was trembling when she reached for his, but was comforted by his warm touch.

Morgana thanked Edwin for his kindness as he offered to show her to her room. She had half-expected him to force her to share his own bed, but the room that he had offered her was small and solitary. Much like the rest of the castle, the room was old and invaded by rose vines, cobwebs and fungi with snakes, rats, spiders and other critters crawling around, but Morgana could see how the room used to be beautiful. The canopy bed was carved of a fine mahogany and soft blankets of silk and lace to comfort, worn though they were. There was a dusty vanity desk, an old writing desk, a wardrobe filled with fine gowns that probably didn't belong to anyone and shelves and shelves of old books.

"Is the room to your liking?" Edwin asked. "I know it isn't the luxury you must be used to, but I hope the books will keep you entertained."

"Thank you, Sir–"

"Please, call me Edwin. I'm no nobleman and formalities are not to my liking."

"Very well. Edwin, then. Thank you, Edwin, it's a lovely room."

Edwin bowed his head politely.

"I would like to see you at breakfast and dinner each day. In between, you may roam the castle or the woods as you please, but don't go too far and I will trust you not to intrude on my studies."

Morgana nodded and thanked Edwin for his hospitality. As he left, she wondered why Arthur was so afraid of him. He was stern, yes, and perhaps a little eccentric, but he wasn't quite as terrifying as Arthur made him out to be. He was polite, gentle and loved his home. She decided she was close to liking him and perhaps in due time she would grow to like him even more. He was interesting. She was sure she might even grow accustomed to his face.

At late night, she decided to take a book from the shelf, but frowned at the book she had picked up. It wasn't that she disliked this book, but it seemed odd to her that she had never seen it before. The text was odd and the illustrations were like no other that she'd ever seen. She looked to the spine in curiosity. Morgana had been through Camelot's library many times and she had never in her life heard of a Victor Hugo before, nor of any story of a hunchbacked bell ringer and the gypsy girl he fell in love with. Of course she quite enjoyed the book, but where had it come from?

Morgana thought nothing of it as she closed the book and placed it to her bedside table. She slipped into a nightgown, sat by her vanity table and began to brush her hair before bed, but the mirror was far too dusty to see her face. She wiped the dust away and was amazed with what she saw. In the crystal clear surface, she could have sworn to have seen her father and her brother reading the note she had left for them, but when she blinked from the leap in her heart the vision had vanished and all she could see was another Morgana looking as shocked as she was. She wasn't sure if it was magic or her own mind playing tricks on her, but she shook her head of the thought and went to her bedside.

Reminded of her poor brother, she held Arthur's rose to her heart and poured some water from her washing table into a vase for it to soak and placed it by her bedside table. It would remind her of her home when she went to sleep and when she woke up.

"Sleep well, Arthur," she whispered to the rose. "You needn't fear for me. I'm quite alright here."

And with those words, she lay down to sleep.

* * *

><p>Edwin was hard at work with his studies when he heard crying in the night.<p>

He did not sleep often; far too busy with his studies of medicine, science, philosophy and alchemy, so at first he thought these cries were just the winds in the woods. But then he heard these cries again and recognized the voice. These cries were the Lady Morgana's. At first, he thought they were sobs of loneliness or homesickness, but then he recognized their tone from long ago. Fear.

"Milady?"

Edwin rushed to Morgana's room and gently opened the door, careful not to frighten her any more. However, he found her asleep in her bed, restless and writhing as though in agony. Her rattling breath sounded so frail that it was a surprise to him that it never stopped. He could almost swear that he could hear her heart pounding like a great Bodhrun drum.

Edwin placed a hand on her brow, at least relieved to feel it wasn't burning. He was gentle with her, as if she were a delicate work of art that was too precious for his rough hands to touch. As restless as she was, he tried to keep very still when he closed his eyes and cleared his mind, whispering ancient words to her:

"Swefn éadnesse."

Morgana's breath and pulse slowed until her body was completely still, almost as though she were dead. Edwin opened his eyes to see the pale beauty laying peacefully at rest.

There was no doubting that Morgana was a most unearthly beauty. Had he not known of her bloodline to begin with, he would have pegged her for the White Goddess with her moonlit pale face framed by midnight black hair. There was no doubting her loveliness, but there was something in her air that fascinated Edwin and her fought with all his might to refrain from touching her any further than one gentle stroke of her ebony black hair.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur was growing dizzy from his father's pacing. It certainly didn't help him when he was _trying_ to read Morgana's letter to him.

_My dear father and brother,_

_Please do not follow me or mourn my leave, but above all please do not think that I have left out of any sort of spite. Please know that I have left purely out of love. Arthur, I cannot watch you run to your death for my sake. To see such a day when that would happen would break my heart and would surely be the death of me. If you love me at all, you will do well to respect my wishes and know that I am doing this for you._

_Father, although we have not always agreed and perhaps never will, I want you to know that no matter the quarrels we've had, I am grateful for your care for me throughout the years. You have done all that you have for me and I have nothing else to give you but half my heart and the other half I will give to Arthur._

_Arthur, I have watched you grow from a pompous little brat to a pompous big brat and I wouldn't change you for the world. You and I have had our sibling rivalries, but I've never told you how much I admire your courage and love for your people and kin. All I ask of you, my dear brother, is to watch over father and, one day, take his place as a just, true and honest king._

_I love you both and dearly hope to see you again; though I don't know which life I may see you in. _

_Ever yours,_

_ Morgana_

"How could she do this?" Uther demanded.

Arthur felt the terrible surge of guilt rush through him when he too pondered this question. He knew full well how stubborn his sister was and how deeply she cared for him. All he wanted was to see her happy again. He never knew that would cost him his own life and take hers away from him.

"It's my fault, father," Arthur admitted.

Uther spun round and stared daggers at Arthur, speechless as he explained: "I only wanted to see Morgana happy, so I promised her a rose from my journey home. The rose I gave her when I returned. You saw how determined she was to take my place and if I know Morgana, I know how determined and stubborn she can be."

Arthur looked up to see his father silently seething at him. His face ad grown red and Arthur was certain he was soon to breathe fire from his nostrils from the way he fumed.

Arthur trembled a moment, trying to find his voice without sounding like a pubescent boy. "I think…if I hadn't offered her that rose…I wouldn't have met this stranger and…and Morgana…wouldn't have left for my sake."

Uther huffed furiously. _"How could you?"_

"I didn't know! She was upset and I wanted to see her happy. I only asked what would make her happy and she said all she wanted was a rose. How was I supposed to tell if a rose was going to cause me all this trouble?"

"Do you realize what you might have done?" Uther growled. "For all we know, this rose may have caused your own sister her life!"

Arthur felt his heart drop to his stomach at that very last word as it echoed through his skull.

"We will have to form a search party," Uther murmured.

"No!" Arthur was quick to protest. "Morgana insisted in her letter not to follow her."

"The girl is a fool."

"If I know my own sister, father, and if you know your own daughter, then you and I both know that Morgana is no fool. Perhaps she is right about this man and perhaps he does have enough heart to care…"

"_No!"_

Arthur felt time and space stop in that one moment. He was fully aware of his father's temper–especially with Morgana, who also bore that temper–but he had never seen him this angry before. He'd never seen his eyes burn so in all his years and he found himself lost for words. He was only glad that Uther hadn't a sword at his side, for if he had said anything his head would have been on a pole by now.

"You do not know people like this Edwin Muirden, Arthur," Uther murmured. The way he said the stranger's name sounded like he was spitting out the venom of a snake. "When you do, you too will have no further thought to protect your children from them."

Arthur's eyes widened to look at his own father. He was certain it wasn't just anger he saw, but before he could determine it Uther turned away and called for the guards.

"Organize a search party!" he bellowed. "Morgana must be found."

Uther turned back to Arthur, pointing directly at him as though his gloved forefinger were a knife. "You found your way to this man's castle. You will lead them there. Come back with your shield or on it, but bring Morgana back home safely."

Arthur couldn't find his own voice even as his father marched out of the room. He still couldn't remove the look in his eyes from his mind and feared that one look may haunt him to his death. Perhaps he should have felt more shocked at the newfound knowledge that his father clearly knew who this Edwin Muirden was, but he couldn't help but pause and wonder if he'd ever seen fear in his father's eyes before.

* * *

><p>Morgana awoke to the foreign feeling of what felt like the first good night's sleep she'd ever had. Her body was heavy and sunken into the cloudy cushion beneath her and woke to see the dawn shining through the window. She was so used to waking before sunrise, but the feeling of the morning sun shining down on her through the window felt like a strange paradise to her.<p>

She was certain she was dreaming about something. That boy that she'd dreamt about those past few weeks. She remembered dreaming about him again, but somehow he'd vanished and the next thing she new she was slowly waking to the sunrise.

Morgana thought to shake it off her head as she sat before her vanity table. She half-expected to find Gwen standing behind her at her command with a brush in hand, but then looked around and remembered just how cracked the room was. She sighed and picked up the old brush on her table and stared into the dusty mirror before her.

Suddenly, she gasped. She was certain she'd just seen Gwen behind her setting her bed, but how sad she looked.

"Gwen?" she said, but turned around and saw no one. When she looked back in the mirror, she saw only herself.

_That's strange_, she thought. _I was sure I'd just seen her there and last night, I saw Arthur._

Morgana found herself staring at the mirror with her brow furrowed in curiosity, carefully studying the details of its frame. She remembered Edwin telling her at dinner that this was a strange place, but she wasn't sure if "strange" was even the word.

Trembling, she placed her brush down and moved to her wardrobe where she found a full rainbow of fine gowns laid out before her. A smile crept on her lips as she caressed the fine silks, satins and velvets, barely able to choose just one. Regardless of the dust, she picked out one, a velvet gown of violet and blue and rested it on her breast before the mirror.

_Caw!_

Morgana jumped at the squawk of Ambrosius at her window and heaved a frustrated sigh at the raven. She frowned, but couldn't find it in her to scold him. She wasn't sure if it was the thought of Edwin hearing her or the idea of hurting such an animal. It was odd, knowing how much she should have felt disgusted by the creature, but she saw the previous night how close Edwin was to it. Rather than scorn the great bird, she simply turned around and dressed behind her dressing screen.

Edwin. What a strange man. Never in Morgana's life did she think to meet a man living in a place like this and befriending the creatures of the forest like the hunchback befriended the church gargoyles in the book she was reading. She smiled at the thought of Edwin living in a church bell tower and speaking to gargoyles as he would his own friends.

_I suppose he doesn't have any friends,_ she thought sadly. _There's no one here but insects and animals._

Morgana smiled weakly at the thought of being so alone herself. She had a proper shelter back in Camelot; she had her father, her brother, her maidservant and her usual acquaintances of knights and ladies. At times she did feel lonely, but never so lonely that she would seek gargoyles or animals for companionship. They would probably be a better conversation than the knights of Camelot were, though.

Morgana was just about to head out the door, but then caught sight of the book she was reading at the corner of her eye. Edwin _did_ say he'd trust her not to disturb him when he was at his studies and in the meantime, she would need some company other than Ambrosius. She only hoped he wouldn't mind her taking one of his books.

Morgana took the book in her hand and wandered through the castle.

When Morgana had arrived downstairs, she found Edwin with a book in his hand before he welcomed her to sit down before him. Perhaps she should have scolded him for not standing to bow for her or offering her seat, but she was torn between feeling insulted for such impolite nature or refreshed from the lack of pointless proprieties. She said nothing as she sat down before him.

"Thank you," she said.

"I hope your room is to your liking?"

"Yes, thank you. How is your book?"

"I've always liked it."

"I took the liberty of reading one of your books last night before I went to sleep. I hope that doesn't bother you."

Edwin smiled, turning a page. "They are there to be enjoyed."

"Well, I certainly did enjoy this one, only…"

Morgana paused as she recalled the story and its illustrations, unaware of Edwin's attention being torn from the book he was reading simply to glance at her.

"Only what?" Edwin questioned, bringing Morgana back to her train of thought.

"This book, Edwin," she said. "I'd never heard of it before. _Notre Dame of Paris_, I think it was called. I've been through the library in Camelot over and over, but I've never heard of a book like this."

Edwin gave a knowing smile. "Aha! So you've met Quasimodo, have you? You'll have to forgive him, I know his story can be too engaging for its own good."

Morgana bit her lip to fight back her laughter. "You've read it, then?"

"More times than I can count."

"Then why have I never heard of it?"

"Did I not tell you this place was strange?"

Morgana was taken aback as Edwin smiled again. It was that smile that kept a secret that Morgana desperately hungered for, but knew she might not hear. She always hated it when Uther and Arthur gave her that smile.

"Do you like it, then?" he asked. "The book?"

Morgana felt a smile grow on her lips as she nodded. "Yes. I like Quasimodo. He's very sweet. He reminds me of you."

Edwin's brow furrowed. "Me? Why is that?"

"Well…he lives alone like you do and he finds companionship in the church gargoyles the way you do with the animals. He may not be as handsome as Phoebus, but he has a good heart."

Morgana suddenly realized what she had just said when she saw that Edwin's smile had fallen.

"Forgive me…"

"No," Edwin said, smiling weakly with his hand gestured to stop her. "You haven't offended me. I know how ugly I am. I only find it odd to compare me to such a character for having a good heart."

Morgana wasn't sure what Edwin meant, but smiled softly when she looked around. "But you must feel lonely here sometimes," she said. "Living here all by yourself."

Edwin was hesitant, but returned Morgana's smile. "Sometimes."

"Is that why you brought me here?"

Edwin didn't answer. How could he, after all? What answer would he have given? Instead, he returned to his book and changed the subject.

"I trust you slept well, then?" he asked, proceeding with his book and his food. Morgana wanted to feel repulsed at his refusal to answer her question or use any cutlery as he ate, but instead she swallowed her disgust and answered: "Better than I have in years."

"You sound surprised to say that."

"I just didn't expect to sleep so well in a strangers household."

But Edwin only looked away from his book and back at her as he smiled weakly. "I heard you crying in your sleep in the middle of the night."

Morgana shook her head. "I don't wish to trouble you with it."

"Tell me."

Morgana wasn't sure what it was about the way Edwin looked at her, but it was a gaze that she could trust more than she'd ever trust anyone. He'd even closed his book just to listen to her. Any knight would have turned her away in the blink of an eye for another pint. She stopped herself before finding herself studying his scars for too long.

"I've often had troubles with night terrors when I was growing up," she told him. "Our physician, Gaius, usually makes me a sleeping draught for them, but they still happen. I had one for a little while last night, but then it stopped somehow. It is odd, but they've never stopped before."

Edwin suppressed a triumphant smile, but continued to speak. "Dreams are very important, especially nightmares."

"What makes you say that?"

"They've much to tell you. You should listen to them. I don't mean to pry, but may I ask what you dreamt of?"

Morgana shuddered to remember her dream.

"Fire," she said and Edwin froze. "I've had this same dream for a long time. A little boy was trying to save his parents from a fire, but the smoke had suffocated them to death and they were left to burn."

There was nothing but silence left when Morgana finished her story and she looked up to find Edwin looking pale as though he'd just looked Death in the eye. He didn't speak. He couldn't. Morgana never thought she would see fear in such a man's eyes, but then Morgana wondered if it _was _fear. There was sorrow, rage and shock all in one. She had to say something. Anything. This silence was killing her.

"Do you have an idea of what it might be telling me?" she asked.

Edwin was still silent until he looked her once in the eye and quickly left. Morgana jumped at the sudden slam of his study door. What had she said?

How was it possible? He saw her! How could he not have seen it? How could he have been so stupid? The way she writhed and wept in her sleep. The terror in her face. The fear in her voice, the sweat on her brow and the tears in her eyes.

Only a Seer could dream of something so horrible as Edwin's own childhood.

He wondered if Uther knew that his own daughter bore the power that he so despised. She was more powerful even than his army of knights. She would only have to cast one spell and every last knight in Camelot would fall to their deaths. Uther was powerless against her.

Poor Morgana wasn't even aware of how powerful she was. If she knew about her gift, Edwin could only imagine what she could do for their people. The whole of Albion would have been the way it was, perhaps even better than before. With both her blood and power, she could be Queen. She could free the Druids and magic practitioners everywhere from the King's oppression. All she needed was someone to help to brush up her powers.

If Edwin could teach her to better her abilities, she would not only gain power for her people and rule over Uther, but she might even help him get closer to Uther.

But there was one question that remained to him: Where did this power come from?


	5. Chapter 5

Gwaine winced at the sudden grip of his breastplate.

"Easy there, love!" he chuckled. "I've got to breathe under all this, you know!"

Gwaine only heard a heavy sigh from behind him. "Why do men _always_ insist on us ladies crushing our ribs with corsets just to look presentable and yet whine like children when their armor is too tight?"

"Perhaps armor is best suited for a lass like you."

"I should hope so. You're useless on the battlegrounds."

"At least I have use somewhere else."

Gwaine's smug grin was interrupted by the sharp slap at his shoulder. He winced again, but turned around to find a teasing smile playing at his wife's lips. He kissed them thrice and savoured the feeling of her scarf-like arms wrapping around his neck.

He was about to kiss her again, but she stopped him. She reached behind her neck for the clasp of the chain that carried the precious pendant that she only ever took off when he was off on a quest with other knights. She took off her wedding ring and placed it through the chain.

"Nell…"

"It's for luck," she insisted. "So you'll know that I am with you even on your journey. Keep it as a promise to come back to me."

Gwaine smiled and clutched took the hand that his wife held the charms and kissed it. "I always come back to you."

Ragnell wrapped her slim arms around her husband's neck and clasped the chain around him. He kissed her again and again until she insisted there was packing to do.

"Who is this man, then?" she asked. "This Edwin Muirden?"

Gwaine only shrugged. "I don't know much about him. Arthur only said that he was hideously scarred and asked for Morgana in exchange for a rose."

"Scarred?"

"That's what he told us. From some fire, it seemed."

"It seems Morgana has taken our challenge in Arthur's place, then."

Gwaine nodded. "So it does. Knowing Morgana, I think she'd do a better job of it that he ever will."

Ragnell smiled weakly, suddenly feeling an odd kind of sympathy for this stranger. She wondered if he was really quite as hideous as Arthur said, scars or no, but she remembered the days long ago when she herself was deemed too repulsive to be seen.

"Do you remember when _I _was like that?"

"Like what?"

"Ugly…like Arthur describes Edwin to be."

Gwaine only smiled and caressed his wife's blushing cheek. "All I remember," he said, "is the way your eyes smiled at me."

* * *

><p>Morgana wondered, as she wandered through the forest, if she would ever understand Edwin. He was a kind man and had a gentle soul, but he was a strange one too. Breakfast had certainly left her cold. He just left. No rhyme or reason and not even a simple excuse from the table. He just left. Morgana would have gladly asked him why, but he spent the rest of the day in his study and had locked the door. Remembering his trust that she'd be wise enough not to intrude on his studies, it took all of Morgana's strength to keep from breaking the door down and demanding an explanation. She soon decided she would give him a good piece of her mind at dinner.<p>

The forest, however, had calmed her anger, somehow. It was peaceful. Serene. Beautiful. Morgana remembered, once, when she was young, when she and Arthur would play in the woods and how much she loved being there. It broke her heart when Uther told them they were too old to be playing in the woods anymore. She'd never know any other beauty than the forest. From afar, she would watch how the forest changed through the seasons from her window, but she did so long to walk through them and experience them. Now, she felt more at home than she ever had in Camelot and never did she ever know such beauty. The flaming red leaves floated through the gentle whispering wind ground as though to fly. The tempting gleam of dewy spider's web was finer than any gem she was ever given, the song of the birds more perfect a note than any singer she'd heard and the spring waters finer than any wine with fresh berries to indulge in. Animals that she had only read about were gathering food for the coming winter, saving enough berries for their families.

Morgana felt at peace as she sat down by the springs. She'd never felt this way before. It felt strange and yet so wonderful at the same time.

She was even so hypnotized by this necessity that she wasn't even afraid when she heard Ambrosius calling out as he landed before her.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it?" she mused.

For a moment, Morgana felt herself becoming the forest. As if some spirit had taken over her, she felt the earth beneath her feet, the wind through her dark hair, the sun on her face and the water gently caressing her fingers as she sat by the spring. She closed her eyes as though in prayer, savoring this moment. She felt she was no longer Morgana. She was something so much bigger than herself. She was all the winds, grounds, flames and waters and more.

When Morgana opened her eyes, she felt them burning. The first thing she laid eyes on was the springs and suddenly, it began to swell.

Morgana gasped, feeling her heart begin to race. The spring was quickly swelling into a pond, then a lake and almost a sea right before her very eyes. Morgana backed away and began to run until she was out of reach from the growing sea.

When she rested by a tree, the moment she touched it, it began to move as though it had come to life. The roots moved like stiff legs and moved its still trunk through the earth, shaking the ground beneath her.

Morgana heard Ambrosius calling to her and she turned quickly to see him flying back to the castle, bidding her to follow him. Morgana ran after as quickly as her legs could take her. When she had finally come to the door and shut herself in, her brow was dripping with sweat, her breathing was heavy and her heart pounded like a great drum. What was happening? Why did that tree move? Why did the water flood half the forest? Everything was so still and peaceful before she touched the water and then the tree. Was it possible that her touch had done this? The very thought made her shudder.

What had just happened? What was happening to her? How was it even possible?

At the dinner table, that evening, Edwin was growing impatient. The night was getting darker, the dinner he had prepared for her was going cold and Morgana still wasn't present. There was only Edwin and an entire table to himself.

As a matter of fact, Ambrosius wasn't there either. Usually he would fly to the table for a bite of bread, but he couldn't even hear his calls.

Edwin had lost his patience and began to worry. He went to the door of Morgana's bedchambers and knocked. He heard a gasp in the room, so he was at least relieved that she was there.

"Lady Morgana?" he called.

It took a long moment, but Morgana opened the door with trembling hands and Edwin gasped to find she was as pale as the dead. Her breath was faint, but brittle.

"Milady!"

"I-I'm s-sorry, Edwin," she stuttered. "I…I-I h-had an accident in the forest today…I…"

"Hush, now," Edwin said gently and took her arm. "Come to my study and you can tell me about it there. You need something to calm yourself."

Edwin was about to lead Morgana to his study, but when she looked behind her he was rather surprised to see Ambrosius on her bedside and Morgana bidding him to come with her.

"You two have certainly gotten along quickly," Edwin noted, trying to lighten the mood.

Morgana smiled weakly as she stroked Ambrosius. "My savior," she called him. "He helped me find my way back here when I was lost."

Edwin smiled. "My old friend has always had a gift for finding the way."

Morgana beamed as she held her new friend close. She never thought she would grow to like such an animal, but how could a creature that had saved her life repulse her? She felt comforted by the great raven and felt safe with him by her side.

Edwin lead Morgana to his study and it had suddenly occurred to her that she'd never seen his study and she found herself standing in awe of it when he opened the door and lead her to sit by him. Lit by more candles than she could count, there must have been a thousand books on the shelves and his desk was covered in equipment and herbs that Gaius would have killed for. Morgana watched as Edwin hurried to the desk, studying his work. He was so concentrated in his work as he ground the herbs as carefully as possible.

"You work here?" she asked.

Edwin only looked to Morgana for a split second and then kept his eye on the herbs. "Every day and night," he said.

"What is it you study?"

"Herbalism, Alchemy, Medicine and anything else that captures my interest."

"You're a physician, then."

Edwin gave half a smile. "Of kinds, yes."

Morgana's brow furrowed, but before she could ask anything Edwin had already finished a draught and offered it to her in a silver goblet.

"Drink this," he said. "It will help calm your nerves."

"What's in it?"

Edwin smirked. "I haven't poisoned it, if you're still worried about that."

Morgana found herself smiling against her will, but let Edwin continue.

"It's lavender. It should help the anxiety."

Morgana smiled weakly and took the goblet. "Thank you."

Edwin sat by Morgana's side as he noticed her trembling hand trying to lift the goblet to her mouth. He held her cold slender hand in his and helped her, gently stroking her back in comfort. His touch was gentle, but firm enough to hold and his hand was so warm. It felt odd for Morgana to consent to a man she barely knew stroking her back, mostly she wasn't fond of men trying to get too close, but Edwin's touch seemed to comfort Morgana. He had a warm touch that soothed her and she liked that he cared enough to help her even in the simplest needs.

When Morgana took the first sip, she very quickly felt the elixir take effect. One sip and her fears were gone. Her trembling had stopped and she felt like she could lift the table with all the books and equipment with one hand. She couldn't even remember what she was afraid of. All that existed to her was the fresh feeling of remedy. Morgana made a note to herself to recommend Edwin in Camelot, for his healing skills were phenomenal.

"Feeling any better?"

Morgana woke from her trance and remembered Edwin was right next to her.

"Much," she smiled. "Thank you, Edwin."

"You should drink the rest. I'll understand if you don't wish to dine with me tonight, but you must eat something before you go to sleep."

_Ah, _Morgana thought snidely. _Thank you for reminding me._

"Yes," she said. "About that…I wanted to ask you about this morning."

Edwin's smile faded and he stood away.

"Are you going to walk away without a word again?"

Edwin turned on his heel. Her face looked calm, but there was a fire in her eyes that he recognized. It was Uther's own fire. If Morgana had also inherited Uther's rage with wherever her powers came from, he would hate to see her put it to power on him, so he took care of what he was going to say. He shuddered to even think of it, but sighed.

"No."

"Then will you tell me why you left me without a word?"

Edwin braved the ability to look Morgana in the eye.

"Will you tell me what frightened you the forest first?"

"And why should I?"

"Because I believe that whatever frightened you is relevant to my answer."

Morgana took another sip from the draught to keep her calm from any rising anger that would occur. It calmed her for a short moment, but she was still certain that Edwin's constant riddle-speech would drive her mad.

"I was walking through the forest," she began. "Ambrosius was with me and we were sitting by the springs. I was relaxed for a moment, but then suddenly the water began to flood the area. Then I ran and stopped by a tree, but when I touched it…it…it _moved!"_

Morgana took another swig, trying to rid herself of the fear she felt at the memory. There was a long silence and she looked up to see Edwin looking perfectly calm and straight at her. No looking away. He was still as stone with his eyes locked with hers. She'd never noticed how deep a blue his eyes were before and noticing now made her cheeks burn and her eyes shift.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I know how those things happened."

"How?"

"You made them happen."

Morgana's eyes widened. She soon began to recall all the times when these things had happened before, like when she was little and a glass vase of flowers had burst when she was having a tantrum or when she was older and an argument with Uther had resulted in a candle burning a curtain. Her heart was now racing even faster than it had in the woods.

She began to drink the draught as though desperate, but Edwin stopped her. She needed to drink slowly with one sip at a time. She began to struggle at his touch, as much as he tried to calm her.

"Morgana," he said, trying to keep a calm tone. "Morgana, listen to me. I know you're in shock…and I know you're afraid of what your father might think…but I want you to know that you're not alone."

Oddly enough, Morgana had suddenly calmed and looked at Edwin, causing him to realize just how close he was to her and he awkwardly backed away. He tried not to be so rude in turning his gaze away from her when he realized how hot his face was getting.

"What do you mean?" she asked. Edwin didn't know what to say. "Tell me," Morgana demanded.

Edwin turned back to her and shook his head. "I can't," he said, regretting it immediately when he heard a broken sigh escape her lips. "I'd rather show you."

Morgana's eyes widened as Edwin stood next to her. Her eyes shifted everywhere in confusion until Edwin raised his hand pointedly to the ground. Her brow furrowed at this odd gesture, but remained silent. He closed his eyes and spoke a strange language that Morgana had never heard before and had no idea what the words meant. Whatever it was he was saying, it sounded beautiful. When Edwin opened his eyes they were no longer the deep blue that Morgana recognized, but a shimmering gold that made her gasp. She looked back to where he was pointing and lost her breath to see a red rose growing at an incredible speed.

Morgana looked up at Edwin with her jaw on the ground, but he could only give her half a smile. It was an odd smile and may have been a full smile if not for his scars, but Morgana was almost distracted by it.

"How did you do that?" she asked.

"The same way you made the waters swell and the trees move."

"You're saying…I have magic!"

"Yes."

"And you do too!"

"Yes. That is why I walked away this morning. I know this is a shock to you, milady, but even I can't make the trees move. It takes a great power to wield nature like that. To think that the daughter of Uther Pendragon would bear such power…I had to take a moment to think. I'm just sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I didn't want to frighten you so early in the day as you're frightened now."

Morgana slowly backed away, unsure of what to think of either herself or her friend bearing the magic that her father so despised. Looking around her now, everything seemed to come into place.

"Then," she shivered. "This place…where mirrors show things that aren't there, where books that don't even exist appear from nowhere, where it's warm without fire…this is where magic lives!"

"Some of it, yes," Edwin explained. "_My_ magic, at least. As you can probably tell, I…I don't like fire and I don't like mirrors, so instead of seeing my reflection, I'd prefer to see the reflections of others. As for the books, I felt that there weren't _enough_ books in my library, so it gave me books that hadn't been written yet. That's why you are able to read _Notre Dame of Paris_ even when Victor Hugo hasn't even been born yet."

Edwin could see all the fear, confusion, anger and sorrow and remembered feeling the same emotions a long time ago. He remembered discovering his gift at the height of the Great Purge, not too long before he received his scars. He shuddered to remember it. He didn't want someone as kind and lovely as Morgana to suffer as he did. She avoided his eye, but that did not stop Edwin from kneeling before her.

"You needn't be frightened of this, milady," he said. "What you and I have is a gift, not a curse. With proper teachings, you could become the greatest sorceress in the whole of Albion. I can teach you."

Morgana shook her head. "You couldn't. My father would have me killed…"

"No he won't," Edwin interrupted.

Morgana's brow furrowed. "Why won't he?"

"Because I won't let him."

Morgana looked back up to Edwin and saw just how sincere he was. She'd heard men vow promises that they had no intentions of keeping, but she could always see the lies behind their eyes. There wasn't a lie in the world behind Edwin's eyes. He was telling the truth. Morgana finally found herself smiling.

"Thank you, Edwin."

Edwin smiled back, stood back up and offered his hand. "Come," he said. "You should get some rest."

Morgana took Edwin's hand, suddenly comforted by his gentle grip and warmth. As Edwin lead her to her chambers, she soon forgot her troubles and fears for the day, lost in conversation. It was strange, for Edwin was no gentleman or knight of any sort and hadn't the manners of any of them either, but she enjoyed his company. It was rare to find a man who could keep such conversation and actually gave her the time to engage in it as well. Most men she'd been acquainted with were arrogant and seemed as though they were talking to themselves rather than with her. Of course, Edwin wasn't as witty or as refined as men that Morgana was often acquainted with, but she liked him. She didn't expect to, but she liked him.

At the chamber door, Morgana thanked Edwin and bade him a good night, but felt her heart leap when she felt Edwin's hand grab her wrist. She looked to him to find him holding her hand in both of his, delicately kissing her knuckles as though in worship.

"Morgana," he said. "Will you marry me?"

"No, Edwin."

Edwin smiled sadly and said no more as he left Morgana, who was left to lie on her bed with her hand still tingling with the imprint of Edwin's soft kiss as she wondered what had just happened today.


	6. Chapter 6

The knights of Camelot were armed and ready with their horses bridled and saddled for a journey for God only knew how long. They would have perhaps been gone over a century and the King would not care unless they had brought Morgana back home where she belonged.

Arthur said one last goodbye to his father and promised to bring home his sister, but was not at all surprised to see how distant his father was. Uther would not look his son in the eye as he said goodbye to him. He only stood cold and forlorn and said: "Bring her home. If you have to move mountains to find her, so be it…but bring her home."

Arthur nodded, choking back tears and composing himself to attention, as any knight would even at his darkest hours. "I will, father," he promised and turned to mound his steed, now too far to see the tears that were flooding his father's eyes.

As Arthur mounted his horse, he could not help but turn to his fellow knights as they said goodbye to their loved ones. He smiled weakly to see Sir Gwaine kissing his young wife goodbye and thought his heart would break at the sight of Sir Elyan holding Gwen close. Elyan was brought to Camelot from the South much later than his sister, parting the two for perhaps more than ten years.

Morgana hadn't been gone that long, but Arthur couldn't imagine not seeing her for more than a year.

The knights of Camelot rode off into the forest in search for their Lady, bidding their loved ones a final farewell, as they did not know how long they would be gone or where they would be. It seemed common for them to trust their Prince and Captain for guidance, but Arthur was almost too embarrassed to confess that his finding of Edwin Muirden's castle was merely by chance and that he hadn't a clue in the world where to find it again.

Soon, the day was leaving them and the knights had stopped for camp. Arthur had his servant, Merlin, start a fire. Remarkably, he was able to start the flames very quickly, but Arthur was too concentrated on one of his knights.

Sir Gwaine held a chain in his hand and caressed its charms like a priest to his rosary. His face was still, but his eyes bore the greatest smile for them as though the reflection in the charm was the face of some angel.

"I've never seen you in battle without that charm," Arthur said.

Sir Gwaine smiled. "It's Nell's. She always gives it to me for luck before battles and quests as a promise that I'll return."

Arthur remembered the day he had met the Lady Ragnell.

She was an ugly thing. She was disgustingly thin with spots on her greying and decaying skin and insects crawling in her muddy brown mess of hair. She was perhaps eighteen at the time, but she looked to be beyond her fifties. She ate like an animal and never washed, leaving her teeth to blacken and her body to smell of earth. The girl was repulsive!

Any other knight would have ignored such a wretch, but for some reason, Gwaine took pity on the poor thing. He took her hand, wrapped her in his cloak for warmth and mounted her on his horse. It was only when she sat by Sir Gwaine's side that Arthur had noticed how bright her eyes were.

Arthur wasn't sure if it was Sir Gwaine' affections to her or the fact that he had actually had her washed, primed, clothed and fed properly, but the Lady Ragnell seemed to grow lovelier every day. When he asked her hand, she glowed and on their wedding day, she could easily have been mistaken for an angel.

"I've never understood your affections for her," Arthur said, but the knight only chuckled heartily.

"That's because you never look," he said. "When I met Nell, she was not as ugly to me as she was to you."

"I don't understand."

"I don't expect you to."

Arthur was growing frustrated with the knight. Sir Gwaine was a true Knight of the North, never refraining from speaking his mind or coating his words with honey, so it was typical of him to speak this way to his fellow knights and superiors. But it was a time like this where this attitude had truly annoyed Arthur.

Sir Gwaine stood and left to gather more firewood, but Arthur marched after him. He stomped heatedly towards the knight, grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him against a tree in a rage, no matter the protests of his knights.

"This is your fault!" he shouted in the knight's face. "If it weren't for that ridiculous quest of yours, Morgana would be safe at home!"

But Sir Gwaine was calm and looked the Prince straight in the eye without even so much as a blink. He shrugged. "You and I both know Morgana," he said. "She'll be fine."

Arthur shook Gwaine furiously.

"She is under the imprisonment of this monster of a man because of you!" he scolded. "All because _you_ wanted me to find what you call this 'true beauty!'"

"And Morgana finds it first," Gwaine responded calmly.

Arthur's eyes widened and the knight pushed him away.

"You looked at Nell once and saw her as a monster," Gwaine said sternly. "Now you look at Edwin and see the same, thought neither of them did aught to harm you. You know nothing of true beauty and you call yourself Prince."

Not a word was said, nor a question asked and Gwaine turned away to gather the firewood that he'd promised.

Arthur spent the rest of the night with Gwaine's words echoing over and over in his mind.

* * *

><p>"Concentrate," Edwin told Morgana. Her eyes were closed and her breathing steady. "Clear your mind. All that should exist or matter to you should be the earth beneath your feet, the air you breathe, the river rushing through your veins and the burning you feel inside you. Allow it to fill you."<p>

Morgana did exactly what Edwin told her. She remembered her walk in the woods and allowed herself to do whatever it was she did then to make the waters swell and the trees move. Again, she felt herself warm and become something so much bigger than herself. She was nature and magic itself and could do anything. Her eyes were growing hot.

"My eyes are burning," she said softly, but tried not to worry.

"That's your energy working," Edwin explained. "When you feel ready, open your eyes and let that energy go."

Morgana took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The burning was hotter than ever as she laid eyes on the bowl of earth before her. A little green head popped up from the earth and began to grow into a taller stem of little red thorns until the tiny bud blossomed into the reddest rose.

Morgana laughed triumphantly and looked to a proudly smiling Edwin. She'd finally gotten it right.

Morgana's time with Edwin was very well spent. As he had promised, he was dedicated to teaching her the art of magic, spell casting and healing and never in his life did he see a more eager pupil. Within a week she had already perfected glamour and telekinesis. Scrying fascinated her most of all and she would spend hours on end reading about it. This, however, was no surprise to Edwin, as any Seer who discovered their gift so suddenly would hunger for the knowledge of it.

Edwin, meanwhile, was working on crystals when Morgana was wandering the woods. He was working his hardest with alchemy and spent hours moulding metals and carving an amethyst. Morgana's nightmares, after all, were still out of control and he felt an amethyst would do the trick. Winter was coming, after all.

When Edwin wasn't teaching Morgana about magic and healing, she rather enjoyed her time with the books he had. She must have read all of them within a month, but she was always happy to see a new one appear out of nowhere every day. Many of them were of orphans, lovers and monsters, but _Notre Dame de Paris_ remained her most personal favourite.

"I fear," she once said, "that I shall never, for the life of me, understand Esmeralda."

Edwin tore his attention away from his studies. "Why is that?" he asked.

"Well, she says that she could never love a man who couldn't protect her and yet she _still_ loves Pheobus over Quasimodo even as the poor man does everything he can to protect her whilst Pheobus simply sits there scorning her."

Edwin shrugged. "Who can choose who they fall in love with?"

Morgana scoffed. "Love?" she said. "She's barely known Pheobus a week!"

"Quasimodo's barely known _Esmeralda_ a week."

"And yet he would die for her when Pheobus would leave her for Fleur de Lys, as horrible as she is, and who knows how many other women."

Edwin smiled. "What would _you_ do if you were Esmeralda, then?"

"Well, I'd _thank_ poor Quasimodo, first of all, for saving both my life and virtue, but I'd also find it in me to love him in return if he loved me so well."

"And would you be honest when you would tell him that you loved him?"

"I think I would."

Edwin's brow furrowed. "Why is that?"

"Because he's kind, brave and has a great heart. Pheobus, on the other hand, has no heart at all, so there isn't one to hold if I should ever dare try to love him. Besides, I don't like handsome men."

"Why not?"

"Because they never seem as lovely on the inside as they are on the outside. I would rather love a man who was ugly and had a good heart than a man who was handsome and had no heart at all."

Edwin couldn't help but smile at the small glimmer of hope that he had just heard. There was a curiosity burning in him.

"And…have you?" he asked.

"Have I what?"

"Loved anyone?"

Morgana smiled weakly. "I thought I did," she confessed and Edwin turned around, still burning with curiosity.

"I was very young," Morgana explained. "Barely thirteen. He was a knight of Camelot, not too much older than I was. His name was Valiant. He courted me at every banquet, promising to win every jousting match for me."

"And did he?"

"Yes," Morgana sighed. "But I refused him when he asked me to marry him. I began to realize that he only wanted me for my looks and fortune when he said the same thing about my eyes perhaps seven times."

Edwin suppressed a small laughter. "What a shame," he said. "He must have been heartbroken."

"Not very," Morgana smiled. "It wasn't long before the Lady Vivian took my place."

"Lady Vivian?"

"His Fleur de Lys."

Regardless of themselves, Edwin and Morgana found themselves laughing at the poor knight's fate.

"I think that's enough lessons for today," he declared. "You may go if you like."

"Come with me, then."

"What?"

"It's too quiet around here," Morgana complained and took Edwin's hand, ready to drag him out the door despite his sudden shock at her touch. "And you've been working too hard. Come with me."

Before Edwin could protest, Morgana had dragged him out the door and into the woods. Edwin, at first, was uncomfortable, but Morgana calmed him with small talk until he eventually stopped looking over his shoulder in case anyone was near enough to see his face. Mostly, he'd gone out for herbs, food and water at night as not to be seen and yet here he was in the broad autumn daylight with the Lady Morgana at his side. They talked and laughed, mostly about science, philosophy and literature.

Edwin soon sat down by a stone, watching with a furrowed brow as Morgana began picking up some dry logs and leaves.

"What are you doing?" Edwin asked.

"It's almost winter," Morgana claimed, gathering another log. "It's getting colder, we should start lighting the fireplace."

Edwin felt his body tense, but hid his sudden rush of fear and shrugged. "I can warm the place myself. It only needs a stronger spell."

But Morgana smiled and stepped closer to him. "Edwin, what's a proper Yuletide without a good fire to burn?"

"Yuletide?"

"Yes. You can't tell me that all those years on your own here has stolen your track of time. It's almost December! We should have a fire lit for a Yuletide feast."

"No."

Morgana froze and looked to Edwin, who hung his head, avoiding her eyes as though hers were the eyes of Medusa.

"I told you before," he said sternly. "I don't like fire."

Morgana paused and studied Edwin's face, but he turned away, carefully hiding his scars from her sight. He never did tell her where he got them, she realized. With a sad grimace, she gently placed the firewood down and sat beside him.

"Is it because of your scars?" she asked, though she didn't need an answer.

Edwin sighed, still looking away from her and said nothing.

"Will you ever tell me how you got them?" She asked.

Edwin shot a look at her, but she remained calm.

"It's just that you know so much about me, about my father, my brother and my life…and yet I know so little about you. All I know is that you're scarred, you live alone with no companions but the animals and insects, you practice magic when you don't practice medicine and you have a library filled with books that don't even exist yet. I know nothing about your family or your life before now."

Edwin smiled sadly a moment and shrugged. "There isn't much to know."

"I don't think that's true. You avoid fire like the plague, you live on your own with no companions but the animals and insects, you cover all the mirrors but the one in my room and you only go out at night for food, water and medicines. Yet you haven't told me why."

"You don't need to know why."

"But I _want_ to know why. I want to know _you_. If you would only let me."

Edwin said nothing, but Morgana was determined and growing agitated. "At _least_ look me in the eye."

Edwin obeyed, though he felt himself distracted by the feeling of Morgana's soft hand on his own hand.

"You're my friend, Edwin," she said.

Edwin's brow furrowed. "Friend?"

There was something in the way he had repeated that word. As though he had no idea what a friend was. Morgana gave a sad smile.

"Yes, _friend,_" she continued. "Someone you like to spend time with and share stories."

Edwin chuckled, causing Morgana to smile.

"When will you tell me yours?" she asked.

Edwin smiled softly and nodded. "Another time," he said.

Morgana sighed in disappointment and pouted like a spoiled child. Against his will, Edwin found himself admiring that pout and could look nowhere else. It was only when she looked back at him that he realized how long he was staring at it.

Morgana saw a kind of hunger in Edwin's eyes. He was close. Very close. And getting closer.

_Caw!_

Before they could even close their eyes, Ambrosius simply had to pass by and say "hello." Morgana laughed, but Edwin was secretly cursing the animal.

"Edwin, look!" she giggled.

Edwin did look and saw Ambrosius landed on the stone head above them. It was only now that they had noticed that they stone they had been resting on was, in fact, a stone gargoyle.

"Like Quasimodo and Esmeralda," he smiled.

But Morgana shrugged, a rather unladylike gesture. "Perhaps not _quite_ like them."

"Why is that?"

"Esmeralda didn't like Quasimodo at first."

Morgana suppressed her laughter to see Edwin's eyes widen and his cheeks redden. She swiftly kissed his marred cheek and walked away, leaving him to watch her wander through the woods. She seemed to dance as she walked away.

_Like Esmeralda,_ he thought aloud.


	7. Chapter 7

Morgana watched in a state of trance, as little white feathers seemed to dance in the air before they landed gracefully onto the cold ground, soon to turn it from a muddy brown to a glistening pure white. The bare branches of the trees soon began to shine against the full moon, glazed with frost. She reached out to the gently falling snow, feeling their cold kisses on her hand. One with the winter, she let the burning in her eyes take over and she watched as the snowflakes falling into her hand began to form into the silvery outline of a young girl dancing in the snow.

She smiled as the little pixie-like shape skipped and twirled in the palm of her hand, remembering how she once danced that way in the snow as a girl, though her nurse often insisted it was unladylike to dance in snow like a commoner. Looking back now, she wondered why she ever felt even the smallest amount of shame in acting like a commoner, for she'd grown to like a commoner's life. She liked being able to wake up in the morning without fussing over frivolous gowns, heavy pomades, perfumes, paints and powders just to seem presentable enough for men to look at. It had been a month, now, since she'd cared to brush her hair or paint her face, she was content in simple furs and leathers for winter and no perfume seemed finer than those of the roses that never seemed to die.

It surprised her greatly, but Morgana found that she liked this strange place. It was not Camelot, but she was glad of that. Camelot hadn't any roses that survived through winter.

Entranced by such beauty, she was not even aware of Edwin watching her from the shadows, wrapped in leathers and furs with a gentle smile on his face. He, too, was entranced, but not by the winter or the night. It was at this very notion that he came to find that all the million stars in the sky to him were worth nothing compared to those that shone in Morgana's eyes when she smiled.

Every night he asked her to marry him and every night she said no. At first, she was afraid of his determination, but after the first seven times her worry turned to a great deal of compassion, for as ugly as Edwin was he had a good heart and was always so good to her. After the next seven times, it became more of a routine of the evening simply to pass by. After the next seven times, she grew frustrated with hearing this question. From the moment they met he was desperate to make her his wife, but as dearly as Morgana liked Edwin, she felt that she was not for him as a wife and nor was he for her as a husband. She felt comfort in his friendship and had she no title or fortune, or had he both, she would have gladly given her hand to him, but what noble ever married below her class and lived happily ever after?

Morgana felt a shiver from the cold air. She did so wish there were a fire alit by her side, but Edwin always refused and insisted the spell he'd cast over the place was enough. Sadly, it didn't feel enough for Morgana. Perhaps she was used to the fire always being lit in winter back in Camelot, but somehow that one spell felt so cold to her in its emptiness. It hadn't the glow and comfort of a fire and couldn't dance before her. She had always loved the fire and so longed to feel it now.

Desperate for real warmth, she went to the books in search for a spell and then gathered the driest twigs she could find in the forest and placed them in the empty fireplace. She did not see Edwin watching in a frozen panic.

"Morgana," he said, but she ignored him and whispered to the wood: _"Forbearnan."_

Soon, the fire was lit and although Morgana sought a relieved comfort in it, Edwin only stood stiff as stone. All he could see in the flames were the burning faces screaming for help. He could hear them both now, begging for mercy. He felt his scars burn, recalling how he felt his own flesh bubble and meld into deformity. He could even remember that horrible stench of burning flesh and blood.

"Morgana," he commanded. "Put that fire out!"

"I'm cold, Edwin," she replied simply. "It'll only be a little while."

"I mean it, Morgana, put it out!"

"You can always look away…"

"Put that fire out _now!"_

Morgana had never seen Edwin this way. She knew he could be bitter and cold at times, but never this angry. But as she looked to him, she not only saw anger, but she couldn't help but notice him shaking as though in anxiety.

"Edwin, what's the matter?"

Morgana stood, though Edwin refused to look back on her. As she stepped towards him, she soon found her leg feeling surprisingly hot. She looked down to it and screamed.

When Edwin turned back his eyes went wild to see the flames catch on Morgana's skirts. Without second thought, he lunged to the flames, stripped the furs off his shoulders and tried his best to cover every last bit of those terrible gold blazes. Trembling violently, he tried harder and harder to cover the fire, only to find his own hand covering part of it and he fell back, crying out in pain.

Morgana stomped on the last bit of flame, grumbling and cursing at them in the most unladylike manner until she saw Edwin sitting in the corner, shaking like a leaf and sobbing like a child.

"Edwin?"

She cast the fire out and knelt to his side. Before she could ask what the matter was, she gasped to see his hand terribly burned and tried to stand him back up, but he continued crying as though in panic.

"I…" he wept. "I-I…s-saw their faces…I-I…I-I heard…them s-scream…"

"Hush, Edwin," Morgana cooed and helped him up. "Let's get that hand of yours wrapped up."

Morgana never thought she'd be the one trying to calm an older man from his fears, but here she was whispering comforting words to him as she sat him down and tore off a piece of her skirts and wrapped it around the injury. Eventually, Edwin had calmed enough to speak.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just don't like fire."

Morgana shook her head. "You needn't be sorry for anything. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so ignorant."

The only thing that eased him of his fear was the feeling of Morgana's hands covering his wound with the herbs he'd told her to keep in her pocket. Somehow the softness of her slender fingers were a stronger remedy to it. She whispered the ancient words he had taught her. Her voice was as soft as summer rain as she whispered to the wound, pleading it to heal. When the golden glow from her eyes had faded, he looked to his hand and wondered for a moment if the wound was ever there to begin with.

"You're learning quickly," he said, smiling proudly at his pupil. "Your healing skills are remarkable."

Morgana smiled back with the same pride. "Perhaps one day I shall be a better healer than you are."

Secretly, Edwin hoped so, but a simple "Perhaps" was all he could muster as he watched her stroking Ambrosius' head, wishing he were in the raven's place. She was powerful, there was no doubting that, and beautiful. More powerful and more beautiful than Edwin would ever be.

Perhaps just powerful enough.

"Will you heal the rest of me?"

He didn't even know why he'd asked or what should have refrained him, but Morgana suddenly stopped caressing the great bird and stared wide-eyed at Edwin. Her smile had dropped within half a second. He could see her mouth trying to find its words, but unsure of what question to ask. Edwin pointed to the melded side of his face.

"My scars," he said. "Will you heal them?"

"Can't you heal them yourself?"

Edwin shook his head. "I've tried. The burns are too deep, but I think you can heal them."

"Why me?"

"Because even now you're more powerful than I will ever be."

Morgana's brow furrowed. She didn't speak for what seemed like forever.

"Please, Morgana," he begged. He'd never beg for anything else. "I don't want to look into the mirror and see the fires that caused this. I want to know what I would have looked like."

Morgana wasn't sure what to do. She knew that Edwin hated to look on his scars and without them perhaps he would have been considered a handsome man, but she wasn't sure she wanted to see him without them. She'd grown used to them and even grew to like them. She couldn't imagine him without them, but she did so wish that he didn't hate himself for them. She could only suppose it was the fire that caused them, but he never spoke of the event beyond the fact that he was very young when it happened. Perhaps it was a memory too horrible for him to mention and he wanted to forget it.

That seemed reason enough to try.

Morgana placed her hand on Edwin's twisted cheek, hindering herself from caressing its contours. At first contact he gave a silent gasp, never feeling a woman's touch on his face like that before. He closed his eyes as though in prayer and, against his will, leaned into her touch. The simple gesture almost distracted Morgana from what Edwin had asked her to do, but she soon composed and grounded herself. She allowed herself to absorb all the lands, winds, flames, waters and spirits within her and watched as all their power passed through her fingers.

As they did, Edwin's face began to change. His scars were slowly fading, making way for the face that used to be handsome. He had features like a woman's; gentle eyes the colour of midnight and a soft mouth, but he had sharp cheekbones and jawlines to outline a masculine beauty.

Edwin was handsome and it frightened Morgana. This wasn't Edwin. Not her Edwin.

Morgana snatched her hand away, not saying another word. For the first time since she was very young, she was cowering on the ground. Almost immediately afterwards, Edwin's scars had grown back and he opened his eyes. He was soon seething as he stared daggers at Morgana. He was almost tempted to magically transfer his own scars to her face to make her feel what he felt, but in doing that he may well have torn the petals from one of his finest roses. She was far too beautiful to ruin that way.

"Why did you do that?" Edwin seethed, resisting the urge to strike her.

"I…" Morgana stumbled like an idiot. "I'm sorry, I…I-I…couldn't"

Edwin scoffed. "So I'm just as hideous without my scars as I am with them, am I? Is that it?"

"No. Quite handsome, really."

"Then why didn't you finish the spell?"

"Because I couldn't bear to think of you without your scars."

Edwin's anger seemed to fade into confusion.

"It is odd," Morgana continued, "but I like your scars."

"Why?"

"Because they're yours. No one else has them. I've grown accustomed to them, I suppose. Besides, I don't like handsome men."

"Why not?"

"Because they never seem as handsome on the inside as they are on the outside. If I ever saw you as handsome as they are, I'd only think of you as I do them and I never want to think of you like that. I like you far too well for that."

Edwin couldn't speak. He was sure his words were lost forever.

Reluctantly, he smiled and watched as she studied his face. His heart jolted and his smile faded when her hand reached for the melded side, but she was so gentle. She traced the contours of his twisted features. Her eyes didn't show any fear or repulsion like others would, but fascination. Against his own will, he found himself moving closer towards her until he gave in and took her hand in his, kissing her palm as though in worship. She let him.

"Marry me."

Morgana's content smile fell almost instantly and she frowned. The tone in his voice was different from any other time he'd asked her to marry him. It was more a command than a question. His eyes were pleading, but she couldn't bear to look into them. She turned away and stood to march to her chambers.

"Morgana," he begged and she stopped to turn to him, her throat beginning to swell and eyes to burn.

"Every night you ask me that question," she said sternly.

"I know."

"And every night I refuse."

"I know."

"You say you know, but you've no idea how much it hurts me. These past months, you have been nothing but good and kind to me, but when you ask me to marry you over and over again, expecting a different answer…you haven't any idea how cruel that can be, do you?"

"I love you."

Morgana fell silent, her words lost to her. It was the way Edwin looked at her that broke her. The way his pleading eyes would not dare break away from her gaze.

"Edwin…I…"

"I love you, Morgana," he interrupted. "As Quasimodo loved Esmeralda."

Morgana was left speechless, choking on the swell growing in her throat as Edwin stepped closer. Her pain only deepened when he placed a hand on her cheek. Morgana was silent when Edwin came closer until his brow rested on hers. He moved closer to meet her lips, but missed when she turned, kissing her temple instead. She could feel the odd twist of his mouth from his scars, but he was gentle. So very gentle.

"Please, Morgana," he whispered. "Please marry me."

Morgana's eyes opened and found a tear falling from one of them. She pushed him away, feeling as cold as ever.

"I'm sorry, Edwin," she said. "I do care for you and perhaps, were there no circumstances, I would willingly give you my heart in return for yours…but I cannot marry you."

Edwin nodded, choking back tears as he avoided her eye. He understood. It hurt, but he understood.

"If you love me, Edwin," she said. "Never ask me that question again."

And she left him. She broke into heavy sobs when she entered her chambers and did not stop until she slept.

* * *

><p>The knights huddled under furs for warmth, each one of them still shaking in their boots even with the fire flickering before them. Even dragon's fire could feel cold on a winter's night. There were mumbles and grumbles between them of the wives, children, brothers and sisters they'd left behind just to find Morgana, but Arthur stood in silence at guard. He was as quiet as a mouse, but so many deafening questions were echoing in his head. Why was he here? Why were any of his knights here? Why was he standing at guard in the middle of winter? Why did Morgana leave for his sake? Why was she living with such a creature as Edwin?<p>

"As much as I'd love to stay as warm and toasty as I can by the fire," said the voice of Sir Gwaine. "I believe that it's my turn on guard."

Arthur hung his head, silent as he looked to the white ground. "Why do you think she did it, Gwaine?" he asked.

Gwaine shrugged. "The heart's a funny thing," he could say and Arthur looked to him curiously. "She loves you enough to face hell and high waters in your place. I know I'd do the same for Nell."

Arthur sighed heavily. "Sir Gwaine," he groaned. "Why must every conversation with you _always_ have something to do with Nell?"

Gwaine just gave a hearty chuckle. "When you find yourself a queen, you'll be doing the same."

Arthur snorted, but his breath stopped when he heard a great _snap._

"What is it?" Gwaine asked, but Arthur hushed him and listened to the air. There was another snap. Then another and then another until crunching footsteps came closer. Arthur and Gwaine unsheathed their swords and crept for a look. There were shapes in the shadows moving towards them until Arthur saw eyes stalking him and his knights.

"Bandits!" he called. "Run!"

The knights scrambled to run at the read, only bothering to bring their weapons as the rogues chased after them, letting out the most terrible of battle cries. Arthur ran as fast as his strong legs could carry him, refusing to let the weight of his sword, shield and armor hold him back. Even as they began to ache and cramp he carried on running. For a moment it felt as though he were flying through the silver forests, as though he had suddenly descended into heaven without knowing.

It was only when he fell limp to the ground that he felt the arrow that pierced his chest.


	8. Chapter 8

Morgana awoke screaming, soaked cold with sweat. Her heart was racing to the point of pain and her breath was heavy. She felt her body trembling all over and had to take a moment to sob in her panic before she could look to the mirror to see if her dream was true. To her horror, her reflection turned to that of Arthur's as he lay wounded and barely breathing.

Morgana scrambled to her feet until she could run out the door and to the study, caring nothing for how indecent she may have appeared.

"Edwin!" she cried.

She stumbled in her anxiety through the hall and to the study where Edwin often worked at night. When she burst through the door, she didn't even care to say a word to ease the confusion on his face. She simply continued to cry and threw her arms around him.

This all seemed so sudden to Edwin that he nearly lost his balance. One minute he was working and in the snap of a finger the Lady Morgana was holding him. It took a moment, but he eventually held her in return and tried to comfort her, hushing her as she wept and stroking her hair, fighting the temptation to inhale its scent. A difficult temptation to fight, especially after the previous night–as a matter of fact, the event left him to wonder why she was even close to him–but Edwin fought it with all his might.

"I saw my brother," she wheezed.

Edwin hushed her again and savored the last moment of their embrace before she parted from him. When he looked into her eyes he could see how red they were. He wiped a falling tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"I saw Arthur," she cried. "I saw him in my dream. He and his knights have been out looking for me, but they were attacked by bandits. He's been wounded!"

Edwin felt his heart sink. Not for the young prince, however, but for the pleading gaze in Morgana's tear-filled eyes as she looked at him. He was certain it would break him when she continued.

"None of the knights have ever been taught medicine," she said. "They are too far from any physician and if they wait till their return to Camelot he may die."

Edwin sighed heavily and turned to his desk. He looked to the ring he'd spent weeks on and felt his heart rise to his throat.

"Well, say something!" Morgana cried desperately. "I know he means nothing to you, but he's my brother. I cannot let him die! Tell me what to do!"

Edwin felt his throat ache when she uttered the word "brother." Edwin never had a brother himself, but he thought that if he did he'd probably just as desperate as Morgana was. He remembered feeling desperate once, long ago, and how terrible it felt. He hated seeing Morgana this way. He couldn't bear to see it any longer.

"Go."

Morgana was startled by this. "What?"

Edwin turned to her, completely expressionless but with a cold voice. "I said go. I release you."

Morgana stuttered. "But…E-Edwin, I…"

"No, I understand. I know what it's like to lose someone."

Morgana's brow furrowed in confusion, but before she could ask who it was Edwin had lost, he placed a gentle hand on her cheek.

"I love you, Morgana," he said softly. "Far too much to keep you here and let you feel the same pain as I have. Go. Take the horse and Ambrosius with you. He'll show you where your brother is. Now go to him, heal him and be welcomed home in Camelot where you belong."

Morgana stuttered, but Edwin hushed her before she could say a single word.

"Your brother needs you more than I do," he said simply.

Morgana didn't know what to say. She'd grown so used to Edwin's company and shelter that going home seemed such an alien feeling to her. An alien, yet wonderful, feeling. She hesitantly smiled in spite of her tears and threw her arms around Edwin's neck. It was the most painful embrace he'd ever felt.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much, Edwin!"

Morgana beamed through her tears and turned to leave, but Edwin took her hand before he could. "Wait," he said. "You're going to need this."

Edwin turned back to the desk and revealed to her a plain gold ring with a deep gem of violet. "This is what I've been working on for the past while," he said. "The stone is an amethyst to help you sleep, so you won't be plagued with nightmares. I was going to give it to you on Christmas, but I suppose it's best to give it you now."

Morgana smiled sadly and slipped the ring on her finger. "Thank you, Edwin."

Morgana turned to leave again, this time uninterrupted by Edwin's grasp, but before she could leave him heartbroken, she turned back to him. She thought she'd break into even more sobs to see him so unhappy, but she placed two gentle fingers under his chin to have him look her in the eye one last time. She gave him a reassuring smile as she caressed his twisted cheek. He responded with a weak smile, but could barely look her in the eye even as she came closer. She heard him gasp when their lips met.

Edwin's kiss was strange. She was fascinated by the roughness of that little twist of scarring on the corner of his mouth, but he was so gentle. So very gentle. He was inexperienced, that much she could tell, but he was giving and was as delicate to her as though she were a strand of silk. She was sorry to part with him.

"I will never forget this, Edwin," she whispered against his lips, noticing his eyes still closed. "I will never forget you or your kindness to me."

It was only when Morgana finally parted from him that Edwin was left alone with nothing but the lingering feeling of Morgana's lips on his.

It was his first kiss.

* * *

><p>The knights were lucky enough to fight and escape the bandits, but their prince was not so fortunate. Arthur spent hours on end groaning and wincing in pain, sweating profusely as his men tried their best to bring him to comfort. Their arguments on how to heal him did not help anyone, Arthur least of all, but they were silenced by a beat of hooves and the call of a raven in the distance.<p>

The disturbance in the air no sooner brought every man to his feet with his sword and shield at the ready. There was a shape in the mist. It appeared as some kind of beast on four legs and what looked like two heads until it began to come closer. Some hag on a horse rode towards them. The knights prepared themselves and each one of them gripped his sword as the stranger came closer. When the hermit emerged from the mist, she took the form of a lady in a frock that looked as though royalty had thrown it away and on her shoulder was a great black bird. Her thick black curls had not been brushed and she had a familiar pair of pale green eyes that seemed to need only one glance to know every sin and secret one ever had.

It took a long moment for the knight's to recognize the figure before them.

"Lady Morgana!" gasped Sir Gwaine.

Morgana gave a relieved smile and dismounted her horse. She struggled through the crowd of knights greeting her and telling her how worried the King was, but all she could ask was: "Where is my brother?"

Sir Gwaine offered Morgana his arm, but she only followed him to her brother with a full pouch clutched to her breast. When Gwaine lead her to Arthur, she gasped not only to see her brother, but how little she recognized him! He was pale and drenched with his own sweat and blood, restless in his sleep.

"He was wounded by bandits barely a day ago," Gwaine explained, but Morgana was not listening. She rushed through her pouch as she sat by his side. "He may yet live, but the wound has gotten worse."

"Well, of course it has!" Morgana shot in a panic. "There's not a sprig of yarrow to be seen around here."

Gwaine's brow furrowed, but Morgana continued to undress the infecting wound and placing a mixture of herbs onto it. Suddenly she cursed under her breath. Only Gwaine could hear her unladylike language.

"Ambrosius," she whispered to the raven on her shoulder. "Yarrow."

The raven, as though it could understand, cawed in response and flew past the frightened and confused knights.

"What was that?" Gwaine asked.

"Don't worry," Morgana assured him. "He's my friend. I just told him to bring me some more yarrow. Fetch me some water."

As confused as Gwaine was, he made no hesitation to dash to the nearest creek, fill a cup with it and hand it to Morgana, who continued to dress her brother's wounds with both the herbs and water. Gwaine observed the Lady curiously as she worked her way to care for Arthur.

"He may yet heal," she said. "Gwaine, hold this cloth on his brow for me. It should soothe his fever."

Gwaine was reluctant, but did exactly what Morgana told him to do, watching with knit brows as the lady took a mixture of herbs onto the wound with a strange kind of thick liquid squeezed from a plant that Gwaine had never seen before. Not even Gaius had such herbs in his cabinet. He opened his mouth to ask her of it, but heard the wounded prince moaning. Morgana gasped.

"Arthur?" she cried. "Arthur!"

Arthur coughed and struggled, but soon his sunken and fluttering eyes began to open. He looked here and there, but found his attention focused to the shape next to him that began to clear.

"M…Morgana?"

Morgana heaved a sigh of great relief, feeling joyous tears welling at her eyes.

"Am I dreaming?" Arthur asked. His voice was slurred and hazy as though he were drunk.

"No," Morgana chuckled and held her brother's hand. "No, Arthur, you're not dreaming. I'm right here."

Arthur's eyes began to light up and he beamed greatly. Morgana let out a joyous sob and hugged him in spite of his wound and weakness. Arthur could only wrap one arm around her.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he laughed sadly. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too, brother" Morgana choked. "Very much."

But Morgana parted from the embrace and continued healing the wound. "Lie still," she told him. "This may sting a little, but try to relax your muscles."

Arthur chuckled. "Yes, Gaius."

"I'm serious Arthur," she said. "I can't heal a wound that won't hold still."

Arthur's brow furrowed. Before he could ask anything he felt his stomach jolt when he heard a terrible _caw_ coming towards them, but Morgana just calmly turned to the sound and reached out her hand for the raven to land. She took a sprig of yarrow from its beak and mixed it with the water before placing the mixture on his wound. Watching his sister healing him was so new to Arthur that he would have easily mistaken her for someone else and it was only when he eyed her coat that he would have done so even if he'd seen her from afar.

"You look different," he said.

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do. I mean…your gown."

Morgana shrugged. Arthur had never seen his sister shrug before. "I can get another one," she said. "Lie still."

Arthur cried out at the sting of the herbs sinking into the open wound, but found his skin cooled by the damp cloth that cleaned it off.

"Gwaine, help him to sit up," Morgana demanded. "I need to dress the wound."

Gwaine nodded and held the confused prince up. Arthur observed his sister's nimble fingers as they did unfamiliar work that he had no idea she knew anything of. He wondered, even, if this woman was, in fact, the sister he grew up with. She seemed so different.

"Where did you learn all this?" he asked.

"I was just going to ask the same," Gwaine said.

Morgana forced back the smile on her lips, but couldn't hide the colouring in her cheeks when she answered: "Edwin taught me."

"Edwin?" Arthur questioned with a furrowed brow. "The sorcerer?"

"Yes," she said simply. "You'd be surprised, but he's a very good teacher."

"I don't believe it! How did you escape him?"

Morgana just smiled and shook her head. "I didn't," she said. "He let me go."


	9. Chapter 9

When Uther saw the line of knights return with some hermit woman with a raven riding by Arthur's side, his heart momentarily broke to think that Morgana had not been found and they had instead brought home some witch with false promises of her return in exchange for Uther's word. He could feel her own blood dripping from his hands, thinking of anything he would have said to her that would have caused her to run to her murderer. He had killed his own daughter!

Then the moment came when he heard that familiar silver laughter. His heart leapt. He looked back up to the knights and searched frantically for the owner of that laughter he knew so well. There was no sign of Morgana, but that hermit looked so familiar.

When Uther took a longer look at the hag, he recognized her smile. Masked by thick mess of black hair was a pale and beautiful face with a full mouth and wise eyes.

_Morgana!_

When the knights rode through the gates with a very dirty-looking Lady Morgana by their side, the people looked at her in awe and disbelief, but it was Lady Ragnell who ran enthusiastically to Sir Gwaine and greeted him with a tight embrace, to which Gwaine returned with kisses and he spun her around, laughing merrily. Morgana beamed at them when they spoke to one another, but felt a bittersweet feeling in her heart to see them together again.

Uther did not bother with a coat when he ran out the door. He did not even heed the snow beneath his feet. All he did was run out the door with the brightest of smiles and embraced his daughter as though she'd come back from the dead. He held her so tight that she was gasping for breath.

"Morgana, thank heavens!" he wept happily. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Oh," she chuckled. "You won't get rid of me that easily."

"Let me look at you."

She did and he released a small laughter when he caressed her face.

"You look so different," he said.

"Perhaps I _am_ different," she smiled and perhaps she was.

Uther let out a happy sob. "I'd prayed for months that they'd find you!"

"We didn't," Arthur explained, struggling to dismount his horse as his chest still stung from the wound. "She found us."

Uther's brow furrowed.

"We were attacked by bandits barely days ago," Sir Leon explained. "Arthur was wounded, but by some miracle Morgana found us and nursed him back to health."

"You escaped from him?" Uther asked. "That sorcerer? How?"

But Morgana just smiled. "I didn't escape, father. He let me go."

Uther was left in complete confusion. He opened his mouth to ask any one of the hundred thousands of questions spinning in his head, but couldn't think of which one to ask first.

"What is _that?"_ asked the Lady Ragnell pointedly at Ambrosius, who lay resting on Morgana's saddle.

Morgana smiled and walked towards the wide-eyed lady, extending her arm for Ambrosius to land on, letting Ragnell look in awe of the creature. "This is Ambrosius," she said, stroking his chest. "He helped me find Arthur through the woods, clever thing. He's a friend."

"May I pet him?"

"Of course!"

Lady Ragnell reluctantly stroked at the great bird's black chest as the king and the knights watched in confusion of the ladies, all but Gwaine, who joined them with a smile on his face. Strangely, the creature seemed to like Lady Ragnell and she giggled when Ambrosius began playfully nipping at her fingers.

"Lady Ragnell!" one of the knights cried, but Morgana stopped him.

"It's all right," she insisted. "That means he likes her. He wouldn't hurt a fly, I assure you. He might be a little hungry from the journey, though. May I have Gwen serve a plate of meats for him?"

"Of course," the king reluctantly answered and his daughter thanked him before allowing her to return to her chambers to bathe. Whom he watched enter the gates no longer seemed like the Morgana he'd raised.

Returning to her own bedchambers felt so strange to Morgana. It was as though she'd never left and yet it seemed such a new place to her. When she looked into the mirror, she half-expected to see someone else's reflection and for a moment she thought she did. She barely recognized herself and felt out of place looking like a poor crone in such a fine room.

Gwen had a bath drawn for her and nearly broke her comb just trying to rid the Lady's hair of all the knots and snarls that plagued her once luxurious black hair. It had been ages since Morgana had had a bath and thus wondered if the soaps and pomades had ever smelled so strong before. Their heavy perfume caught in her throat and nostrils, nearly making her sick.

"The knights were right," Gwen said, shaking her head as she tried her best to untie another knot. "You _have_ changed."

"Then it is a change they will have to get used to," Morgana joked as she fed a piece of ham to Ambrosius. She laughed to see the raven squawk happily, flapping his large wings, but it made Gwen squirm. She would have to buy a cage for the beast and keep it tame.

"How did you even survive there for so long?" the maid asked. "It must have been awful!"

"Actually, it was quite lovely. There were thousands of books to read and plenty of food and wine to have. I learned quite a lot about herbs, science, philosophy and m...medicines. Edwin taught me everything there was to know about them and he was always there to keep me company."

"He must have been a very intelligent man."

"Oh, he _is_, and so kind, so gentle, so witty, so sweet…"

Gwen laughed to see Morgana show such fondness over a man. "I'm guessing you like him, then."

Morgana smiled in reflection as she fondled the ring on her finger.

"Yes, I do."

Gwen had never seen her mistress like this before. Normally she'd talk spitefully of the men around her, especially knights and princes, but to see her smile over a stranger so hideous that he lived in exile was most extraordinary.

The king announced a banquet in celebration of the Princess's return and Morgana had never hated another banquet in her life. She could barely walk in the heels that pinched her feet, nor breathe in the corset that crushed her ribs and the tiara on her over-dressed head felt so tight and heavy that it made her head ache. The wine tasted sour and it took all her strength to stop herself from eating with her fingers. She'd lost count of all the "Welcome homes" she'd received from knights, maids, lords and ladies across the kingdom that she began to tire of the smile she forced when she thanked them.

It wasn't long before she had found the ladies Vivian, Elena, and Mithian, whom Morgana rarely spoke to, but seemed very pleased to see her.

"Lady Morgana!" called Lady Mithian with her usually warm smile. "We've heard so much of your journey. Welcome home."

"Thank you, Lady Mithian," Morgana smiled as she struggled to curtsey. It had been a while since she'd curtseyed for anyone that she felt foolish for doing it.

"You must be so happy to be home at last," smiled Lady Elena. "Forgive my curiosity, but what was it like in there? In that abandoned castle with a _warlock?"_

Morgana was certain Elena didn't mean to sound so disgusted at that last word, for she was usually a kind and spirited soul, but something about it made her stomach turn.

"You're forgiven," she insisted. "As a matter of fact, I quite enjoyed it."

The ladies' gave her surprised and disgusted faces.

"You _enjoyed_ it?" the Lady Vivian scowled. "A place like _that?"_

"Yes, I did. There was so much space and fresh air in the woods with so many animals to keep me company and the walls were covered in roses that could even survive the winter. The entire castle smelled of roses and earth. There were plenty of books to read too, so I was never bored."

"And the warlock?" Mithian questioned.

Morgana smiled with reddened cheeks as she again fondled the ring on her finger. "He was very good to me. He may look vicious, but he's really very kind and gentle. He's a good friend."

"Is he _really _the Son of the Dragon, then?" Lady Vivian asked.

Morgana's smile suddenly fell and she felt her stomach jolt. "What?"

"That's what they call him," Vivian explained with the smile of an excitedly curious fourteen-year-old. "They say that his father was a Dragon. _That's_ why he is so ugly."

Morgana felt her heart sink to hear this. She said nothing as she turned to leave the ladies without an answer. She couldn't bear to look on them any longer, Vivian least of all.

The Son of the Dragon. The very title echoed in her brain, followed by the most hideous word she ever uttered to hear: ugly. Ugly, ugly, ugly. A word that matched its meaning and the sound it made. She hated to hear her own people say it. She hated to hear her own kingdom say it. It was true, Edwin was no Prince Charming or Knight Valiant, but he had more heart than any of them put together.

And all he was to the people of Camelot was the ugly Son of the Dragon.

Morgana looked around in sudden disgust of the crowd around her, watching their glances at her as they whispered of how she had survived several months with the Son of the Dragon. She heard all their whispered gossip. Many of them were of how Edwin had cast some spell on her. Some were that she was just some shadow of her former self after he'd killed and eaten her. One of them was that she'd become his whore.

The many whispers made her dizzy and she couldn't breathe. _Damned corset,_ she thought to herself. She couldn't take it anymore. She ran from them, ignoring the many "Miladies" with bows and curtseys that waved by as she passed.

Morgana stopped by a window in the hallway, holding her crushed stomach as her throat began to ache. When she looked to the window, she saw the unfamiliar white roofs of the kingdom sparkling under the full moon. She used to find them beautiful at this time of year, but they seemed so plain, now, compared to the iced branches that bore a twinkle that tamed the million stars above.

She did not recognize the painted, ghostly face looking back at her from the glass.

* * *

><p>Edwin sat uninspired by the desk of his study, staring blankly at the tools before him that had been untouched for the past week. He found little need to work since he last saw Morgana and felt no motivation to do so. He barely slept nor ate and the usual experiments that kept him occupied seemed more of a chore to him than the pastime it used to be. The silence that surrounded him was just too suffocating.<p>

Normally, he liked solitude. It was a nice way of life that helped him to get things done and it kept him away from all the taunts and names he'd heard of him in the past, but now it seemed unbearably foreign to him. Not even the company of animals and insects could ease his loneliness, for none of them could ever bear her voice.

_Morgana..._

The place was so unbearably quiet without her. He'd grown so accustomed to her company that his home seemed so empty without it and its once lively beauty so dead and futile. Not even the roses could remedy it, as they soon began to wilt by every passing day and night.

Edwin looked again on his dust-catching tools and eventually gave up, leaving the room. When he reached the empty fireplace to read, he felt his legs growing weak and he coughed as he struggled to sit down. His body felt limp when he sat. He lay there thoughtless for a while until a book caught his eye. He reached for it with a trembling hand and felt his throat swell when he saw its title.

_Notre Dame of Paris._

Morgana had left it behind.


	10. Chapter 10

_Morgana did not know where she was and, frankly, didn't care. She could have been in heaven for all she knew. It certainly felt like it: warm, white and so completely perfect. She never knew such bliss existed. It was as though everything around her had vanished into thin air and all there was left was the sense of touch, nothing but skin and sighs. She could feel his breath against her neck as she traced the outlines of every scar, memorizing each and every one of them. He made no protest and continued to entwine his fingers gently with hers. She never thought she would know such sweetness as his kisses on her brow and his adoring looks. His tender touch felt wonderful on her skin, almost feather-light…like silk._

"_Edwin."_

_She lifted her head from her shoulder and moved for but one kiss, but could not find his lips. It was as though his face was gone, though she knew it was there. It was there. She felt his softness against her lips. The softness of silk. _

_She parted from him and felt her heart sink to see that it was a veil between herself and Edwin. Was it hers or his? She did not know, but it was blindingly white. So white that Edwin seemed to be fading beneath its pale surface until she could no longer see him. The light had faded with the warmth and in his place was nothing left but darkness and cold._

When Morgana awoke, she felt the strange and terrible emotion of feeling both happy and sad at the same time. Happy because it was the first pleasant dream she'd had and that she could still feel his touch on her skin; sad because of how quickly he seemed to have vanished from her and that she was now awake in her own bed, completely alone. Her skin still tingled with the feeling of his kisses and she tried to savour the feeling of each one of them until they too faded into nothing.

On her finger he saw the moonlight sparkling on the amethyst that Edwin had given her and just looking on it made her heart break. She whispered his name like a prayer as she caressed the smooth band, as though saying his name would bring him right next to her.

Instead there was only the emptiness of a cold bed.

* * *

><p>Christmas and New Year had passed by quite quickly. Morgana wore pretty gowns and had fine food and wine at every banquet, pretending to enjoy it. She received hundreds of gifts from her father, brother and many strangers that she cared little for. Many of them were over-decorated hairbrushes she would never use, gaudy dresses she would never wear, jewelry that the Queen of Albion would be humbled by and a dog or two that would never stop barking. She later gave the dogs to two children on the streets who had such fun playing with them and her dresses and fineries to her maidservant to sell for food.<p>

The only gift she kept was the ring on her finger.

Uther and Arthur rose from their seats when Morgana arrived for breakfast, but she insisted they sit. It was a silly action, really, rising for a lady when she approached and left the table. They both stared at her when she sat down and ate. Her dress was simpler than usual, her face had not been powdered or painted and she had not brushed her hair.

"Oh, I didn't want to bother," she said when Uther asked. "I'm not planning on going anywhere special today, so I didn't want to fuss over nothing."

Uther's eyes widened to learn of his daughter acting in such a way. Arthur, too, was surprised by his sister's words and actions. She spoke of science and philosophy, not suitable subjects for a woman, and her manners were _far_ less than ladylike. As a matter of fact, Morgana no longer looked a lady at all. She looked like a hermit _dressed_ as a lady. The morning was spent in an awkward silence between the three until Morgana insisted on going out to tend to Ambrosius.

Arthur caressed the dressing of his wound as he watched Morgana through the window. She was in the gardens tending to that hideous creature she had brought home and insisted on keeping. Usually he'd see her on a horse or with a book, but these days the only thing that seemed to make her happy was tending to that damned bird. He felt as though the woman he was observing was not the girl he'd grown up with. The Morgana he'd known through the years would never have walked out without a maid or chaperone or shrugged off mud stains on the hems of her skirts.

"She's changed," he thought aloud.

His servant, Merlin was roused from his work to hear his master say such a thing. "Who has?" he asked naïvely.

"Morgana," Arthur said. "Haven't you noticed?"

The young servant stuttered. "W-well…months away from home could change anyone."

Arthur shook his head. "Not like this. It's like she's a completely different person now. Look at her!"

Arthur further observed his sister as the great raven landed on her heavily gloved hand. She was speaking to it as though it were human.

"I don't understand," he shook his head. "She cares for that bird as though it's her own child."

"Actually, Ambrosius is a male," Merlin piped, but regretted it when his master turned to him with wide eyes.

"And you know that?"

"Yes. She told me."

"She _told_ you?"

Arthur stood wide-eyed. The thought alone of Morgana speaking to a servant of her own pet was greatly perplexing to him.

"Yes," Merlin continued. "She was tending to him yesterday and when she saw me watching her, she invited me to help. He's a nice creature, Arthur, very loving. I've always liked birds, you see, and…"

But the prince just scoffed and turned back to the window. "As happy as I am that you've found a hobby, Merlin, I'm not interested to hear of it."

Merlin's enthusiastic smile fell and there was an awkward silence.

"Maybe that's why you don't understand her affection to him," he finally said. "You haven't even bothered to try."

Arthur's gaze shot daggers at his servant, who simply stood there silently beside his finished work with the smallest hint of a knowing smile on his boyish face. He bowed without another word and left his master.

* * *

><p>Morgana stroked the raven's chest for what seemed an hour. She wasn't sure how long she and Ambrosius had been outside, but it didn't seem long enough. The castle walls seemed suffocating to her and she was certain that the wretched cage that Gwen had bought seemed just as such for Ambrosius. She felt any time she'd spend in the gardens would never seem long enough.<p>

Ambrosius squawked at a figure. Morgana heard a soft, silvery voice coming from behind her call to her: "Milady?"

Morgana turned to see a lady in gold silks and copper furs with smiling brown eyes. "Lady Ragnell!"

"Please," the young woman insisted. "Just Nell is fine. I was wondering if I might join you."

Morgana's brow furrowed until she noticed Nell nodding to Ambrosius. "Forgive me," she said. "I've always had a fondness for birds. I wondered if I might?"

"Oh," she said. "Of course."

The younger lady beamed brightly and offered her hand to the bird, who happily hopped along her arm until reaching her shoulder. Nell giggled as Ambrosius nuzzled against her cheek. It was the first thing that made Morgana smile all day.

"He's so sweet!" she laughed.

"At least _someone_ thinks so."

"Doesn't anyone else?"

"No. The ladies are frightened of him and my father and brother simply think him a filthy animal that's meant to be caged and Ambrosius _hates_ being in a cage."

Nell smiled weakly and stroked the raven's head with a playful pout. "Poor thing," she said. "You don't belong in a cage, do you? No."

Morgana gave a half-hearted and felt her heart darken when she felt so did not belong in a cage either. Her gaze turned to the closest thing she could find to the woods beyond the castle walls that blocked her from them. She felt a chill and tightened the fur stole around her shoulders and the thick velvet around her arms. Nell's smile fell when she noticed the fellow lady's uneasiness.

"You seemed upset at the banquet the other night," she said. "I wanted to see if you were all right."

But Morgana forced a smile and insisted she was perfectly well. "Perhaps I'm just not used to being back in these walls after so long."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with this Edwin fellow, would it?"

Morgana looked wide-eyed to a smiling Nell. It was a very knowing smile that made her blush. This blush only made the young lady laugh merrily.

"How did you know?"

"You glow when you talk about him. I've seen you smile before, milady, but never so brightly as when you talk about him. You've nothing to worry about, though. Your secret is safe with me."

Morgana sighed in relief and looked back to the woods.

"You miss him," Nell said.

Morgana was reluctant, but soon felt her cheeks warm as she nodded.

"Strange, isn't it? I have the most noble knights and most handsome princes in all of Albion asking for my hand every day and yet I would gladly have a scarred physician's company above every one of them."

But the Lady Ragnell's eyes sparkled at the Lady Morgana. "Not strange at all," she said.

"What do you mean?"

Nell smiled warmly at Morgana and said: "I was ugly too, once. My brother had cursed me to live my life with the appearance of an ugly old crone until a good and true knight would marry me of his own free will and make the choice of whether I would be beautiful by day or by night. Soon the day came that I met Gwaine and he didn't see my ugliness at all. He didn't scorn me or spit any insult of my face like others had before. All he said was that he would freely marry me. That was when I began to change into the way I look now. On our wedding night I told him about the spell and the choice that he was meant to make, but he gave the choice to me. That was what broke the spell."

"I don't understand."

"But I think you do. I think you understand full well. Gwaine loved me for who I was and cared for what I thought, not for the way I looked. You do the same for Edwin."

Morgana smiled to herself, blushing as she remembered when Edwin had asked her to heal his scars. Even now she hated to think of him without them, for she barely even recognized him without them. Funny how she learned to like them as well as everything else about him and then it struck her. Her smile grew and her cheeks felt even hotter to realize it.

For the first time in her life, Morgana was in love.

"I would!" she laughed. The two ladies looked to one another with the brightest of smiles that turned into the giddiest of laughter.

The ladies spoke of many things from there little tête-à-tête and quickly became closer than they had imagined to before. Morgana told Nell of the many things she'd learned of science and philosophy on her leave and Nell took much fascination in learning of them, along with learning how to properly tend to a bird so big as Ambrosius. They spoke of the wilderness and joked of the frivolities of nobility. They talked and laughed for quite some time until Gwen arrived.

"Milady," she said with a curtsey. "The king would like a word with you."

Morgana nodded and thanked her maid before turning back to Lady Ragnell.

"Why don't you care for him for a little while?" she said. "I shall try not to be too long."

Lady Ragnell nodded and continued to tend to Ambrosius as Morgana made her way to the Courtroom where her father sat at the table with papers in his hands.

"Father," she said with a curtsey. "How are you?"

"Very well," he said, bowing his head with a smile. "And yourself?"

"Well," she said, "In fact, I'm glad you requested my presence."

"Oh?"

"Yes, because I wish to speak with you as well. The other day, Gwen bought this cage for Ambrosius. I've been trying to tell her again and again that he isn't used to being caged, but she insists on keeping it. I was wondering if you could persuade her to get rid of it?"

"Of course not," Uther waved his hand at the matter. "The creature should be caged as not to ruin any of your things."

Morgana's brow furrowed. "He wouldn't do that, he's as gentle as a lamb."

"He is also feral and likely to fly everywhere and ruin your clothes or curtains. Anyhow, haven't you more important things to worry about than such an animal?"

"But I'm worried about _him_, father! If I keep him caged, he's sure to die of boredom. He needs to spread his wings."

"Take him out flying once a day, then."

"Once a day? Father, he'll need more than that!"

"That's enough, Morgana. I wanted to talk to you of…"

"It's simply _not_ enough!" Morgana spat. Uther was beginning to fume, but Morgana insisted on being heard. "Ambrosius _hates_ being in that hideous thing! He is much too big for it and he is constantly struggling to spread his wings. Wouldn't you if you were a bird that size in a cage that small?"

The king rose from his throne in a rage. _"I said enough!"_

Morgana was silenced, but not afraid. She stood her ground and looked her father straight in the eye.

"I have not asked you here to discuss the matter of a bird," he continued. "I've asked you here to discuss the matter of marriage."

Morgana was startled. _"Marriage?!"_

"Yes," Uther nodded. "You are of well marrying age and as you are princess of Camelot, it is only right for you to unite with the kingdom of Nemeth. Besides, you've had countless knights and lords asking for your hand."

"And have already refused them all," Morgana retorted. "I don't love any of them."

"There are some things that are more important than love."

Morgana watched speechlessly as her father sat back down and unrolled the parchment in his hand, preparing to read out Lancelot's proposal and the arrangement of marriage to her.

"I don't believe that is true," she said simply.

Uther raised both his head and his eyebrows when he looked to his now defiant daughter.

"I know love," she continued. "And would willingly sacrifice this entire kingdom and crown for it. I would live cold and starving in the woods for the rest of my life and still be happy. I would be no one at all with no title or inheritance and still I would be happy as long as I knew love.

"And I fear, father, that your search for a suitor has been in vain…for I am already engaged."


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur awoke to a knock on the door. He was certain it was well past midnight and that the whole kingdom was asleep. Still, he forced himself out of bed and walked to the door. When he opened it, a beauty in rugged leathers and furs stood smiling weakly with a raven in her arms.

"Morgana?" he murmured, still rubbing his barely open eyes. "What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night."

"I wanted to see you," she said simply. "May I come in?"

Arthur, eyes finally open, nodded and opened the door for her. When she walked in, she looked around the room as though to memorize every last detail of it. She gave a sad smile when she hugged Ambrosius to her breast.

"Why are you here?" Arthur asked. "And why are you fully clothed? In rags, no less?"

Morgana smiled. "You never stop asking questions, do you?" she said. "Never did. To be honest, all three of those questions just have one answer. I'm here, fully clothed in rags because I'm leaving Camelot and I wanted to say goodbye before I do."

This answer seemed to have slapped Arthur wide awake. His eyes widened as he snapped his gaze towards his sister and he felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. He stuttered, but could find no audible words but for the words "What?" and "Why?"

"I should think it was clear why," Morgana said. "Arthur, I'm very grateful that you and your men came to rescue me, but I'm afraid it has all been in vain. Since I've come back here I've never felt so alone. When I was away I finally knew what happiness felt like. I was happy, Arthur. I could finally live and breathe without being told what to do or who to be. And now I've come back to them. Back to a cold home with all these rules and all these expectations. It's unbearable, Arthur and I can't stay here."

"I don't understand."

"I didn't think you would. Simply put, I'm going back to Edwin."

Arthur's heart raced. "No!" he protested and grabbed her by the arms. "You're not going back there, do you hear me? You can't! Not after all we went through to bring you back home."

"But this _isn't_ my home, Arthur. I don't belong here. Don't you see that? If I stay here any longer, I'll become worse than Ambrosius in his cage. I _have_ to go back!"

"Morgana…"

"I love him, Arthur."

Arthur froze. His eyes had grown as wide as saucers. He was speechless for quite some time as he recalled the way she had acted since she had returned. The way she smiled, the way she spoke of him and the way a mighty kingdom seemed no more than a rotting hut compared to a castle ruin.

"This," he said hesitantly, "has to be some spell."

But Morgana shook her head. "It isn't," she said. "I would know. I'm in love with the Son of the Dragon Arthur." She scoffed. "I don't even know why they call him that, he doesn't even like fire. But all I do know is that he needs me. I can feel it."

"You would know?" he said. "But…how? And what do you mean you can feel it? I don't understand."

"I know," Morgana smiled weakly and nodded. "Which is another reason that I have to leave."

Arthur's brow furrowed, but when Morgana outstretched her hand to him he was sure he must have been dreaming. He saw golden light flickering from her eyes as she whispered words of a long-forgotten language that he did not understand. Within seconds, the reddest rose he had ever seen had sprouted from the palm of her hand. He looked to his smiling sister with wide and fearful eyes, not sure what to think.

"You have magic!" he gasped.

Morgana nodded without expression. "Edwin taught me," she said. "He taught me everything."

All this new information was overwhelming to Arthur. So overwhelming that he felt his legs grow weak and he had to sit down without a word. Morgana sat next to him as she let Ambrosius rest on her shoulder.

"Do you hate me?" she asked.

Arthur thought a moment. He knew that he should have hated a witch who claimed to love the Son of the Dragon, but strangely he found he could not. He smiled weakly. "I should," he said. "But I can't. You are still my sister. You always will be."

Morgana smiled and took her brother's hand. "I will, and you will always be my brother. That is why I must beg you, this time, not to go looking for me."

Arthur sighed and caressed his sister's cheek as though to memorize her every last feature. He did not understand and felt he no longer knew her, but that did not stop her from loving her as he did.

"You really love this man?" he asked.

Morgana nodded. "I do," she said. "With all my heart."

"May I ask why?"

Morgana smiled. Even in the dark Arthur could see her cheeks redden. "Clearly, you already have. I love him, Arthur, because he sees me as I am and would have me no other way. As a wife he would see me as his companion and not his prize."

It was at that moment that Arthur saw his sister in a new light. For the first time there was nothing but content in her eyes. For the first time he understood. "Then," he said. "You have my word."

He regretted giving it to her, but Morgana smiled brighter than he ever saw her and she embraced him tightly, kissing his cheek.

"Goodbye, Arthur," she whispered in his ear.

Arthur did not want to say goodbye to his sister, so he chose not to, but before she could leave, he offered the rose she had summoned. Morgana just smiled and shook her head. "Keep it," she said. "As a gift in exchange for the one you gave to me." And she left.

Arthur simply sat motionless at the end of his bed with the rose in his hand as Morgana left him until he heard hooves outside. He stood, walked to the window and saw one shaded shape following another out the gate. He watched Ambrosius lead Morgana to where she belonged until she had vanished out of sight. He stood by that very window, sometimes crying, sometimes smiling until dawn broke and the alarm bell had summoned his knights to his chamber.

"Milord," one of them (he didn't care which) called to him. "The Lady Morgana has gone missing again."

Arthur looked to the rose in his hand. "No," he said. "No she hasn't. We needn't concern for her."

* * *

><p>After long days and nights of travel she had reach the dark ruin of a castle that was covered in vines and webs. It was no shining castle nor mighty kingdom, but for the first time in her life, Morgana felt like she was at home.<p>

When she opened the gates the castle looked different. It was still aged and decayed, but the roses that brought it to life were wilting. The air was colder than she remembered it, perhaps even colder than the fading winter. The creatures and critters were gone. There was nothing left but the stench of dust and the suffocating silence that consumed her. The only sound was her own voice calling Edwin's name. She called for him repeatedly, but heard no reply until a series of weakened moans and mutterings echoed from the gardens. For a moment she feared she was too late, but felt her heart leap when she heard Ambrosius' call lead her to his master. She found Edwin lying on the ground with Ambrosius pecking at his cheek in attempts to wake him.

"Edwin!" she cried and ran to him, cradling his weight in her arms. "Oh, Gods!"

He'd become light and gaunt, possibly starving, but she was relieved to find him even the least bit conscious. His breathing was weak and his words weaker, but she was determined. She took water from the creek in her palms and let the cool drink drip past his lips. It took three sips to open his eyes.

"Edwin!" she cried. "Edwin, wake up. It's me."

Edwin's eyes fluttered open and searched the gardens until they met hers.

"M…Morgana?" he wheezed.

Morgana beamed brightly with the most wonderful relief and nodded.

Edwin stared a moment and smiled. "Like Quasimodo and Esmeralda," he said. "Bringing water to the foundling when no one else would."

Morgana laughed through her joyous tears and embraced him. It took him by surprise, but he held her in return.

"You're cold," she noted. "Let's get you inside."

Morgana struggled to help Edwin back on his feet and found him as light as an underfed child. She led him inside before the empty fireplace, wrapping him in leathers and furs. She even tried making a hot drink for him, but he was still so cold. He was shaking. Morgana hated having to come to this conclusion, but she told him to wait and came back a minute later with firewood.

"What are you doing?" Edwin asked.

"I'm building a fire," she said sternly. "I know you don't like it, Edwin, but you _need_ to keep yourself warm. You'll freeze to death, otherwise, and I won't let that happen."

"No," he worried. "Please don't!"

"Edwin, I will not let you die! You need to keep warm."

Morgana whispered to the wood and lit the fire. Edwin covered his eyes and shook in a panic, still seeing their agonizing faces in the flames, but Morgana sat before him in attempts to calm him.

"Shh," she cooed. "Edwin, it's all right."

But even with Morgana's hands at his cheeks, he still panicked. He was rambling in tears of how he could hear them screaming when he heard the terrible crackling and popping of the flames. He could even feel his scars sting against the overwhelming heat. Still, Morgana shook him in attempts to keep his eyes on hers.

"Edwin," she said. "Hush! Look at me, my love. Look at me!"

Edwin refused, but Morgana placed both hands on his cheeks and turned his gaze to hers so that he had no other choice but to look at her. She wouldn't let him turn away. She was sure she would die if he did. She felt him quiver at her touch when she caressed his melded face before her lips met his. She heard him gasp in surprise when she did, just like when she first kissed him.

This kiss was more passionate, however, much more so than their first. Morgana was the first to slip her tongue past Edwin's lips. Unfamiliar with the secrets of intimacy–often caring more for his studies than such affections–Edwin could only reflect Morgana's movements as he felt her arms wrapping tightly around him. All he could do was worship her as he allowed his hands to guide themselves all over her body and trailed his hungry mouth down her neck until she moved to sit astride him, stripping them both of every last layer until there were no boundaries left between them and they fell to the ground.

Morgana had been kissed many a time before, but never loved and when Edwin loved her she was consumed with a state of ecstasy greater than any magic. She cherished every sound she elicited from him and loved to see him shudder when she traced the scars on his back. He, on the other hand, showed a great fascination with her skin, tracing kisses and caresses along the perfectly smooth and white surface that was left completely unblemished by any sign of scaring or discolouration. She was perfect. Simply perfect.

The castle seemed to bloom to life when they came together.

When Edwin awoke, the fire was still lit. He didn't panic. He observed the golden colour that burned his eyes, not too different from _her_ hair. The small hints of blue flickering from the black wood reminded him of _his_ eyes. Its light was warm, just like _their_ embraces. He did not see or hear their screams elicited from the fire, but their smiles.

"I was seven," he reflected aloud. "My parents were healers, just like you and I. But they practiced magic too. So did a lot of people, back then. During the Great Purge, Uther had commanded our home to be burned by his knights. Do you remember that little boy that you dreamt of? The one who tried to save his parents from the fire, but failed? I was that little boy, Morgana."

It was not long after his tale that Edwin realized that her eyes were open and welled with tears. He felt his throat run dry for but one moment until he felt her hand on his marred cheek.

"Is that why you ran away when I told you about my dream?" she asked.

Edwin nodded. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I suppose I was scared. I feared that if I told you, you would leave me."

Morgana gave a cold laugh. "Leave you?" she said. "After hearing all that?"

"Of course," Edwin said simply. "I feared you'd leave me for Camelot and have your father hang me."

But Morgana shook her head and took Edwin's hand, entwining her fingers with his and kissing them as though in pure devotion. "He won't," she said.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I won't let him."

Edwin felt a smile creep along his lips as he heard his own words come from Morgana's mouth. He beamed brightly and kissed her passionately, finding himself laughing. Morgana laughed with him between a thousand kisses and caresses. Eventually, Edwin stopped for breath and rested his head on Morgana's shoulder like a child, watching as his fingers entwined with hers as though in a state of hypnotism.

"You must hate me for bearing his name," she mused.

Edwin lifted his head with a furrowed brow, looking her up and down. He shook his head and placed a hand on her cheek. "No," he said. "You are nothing like him."

"You don't know that."

"But I do. Uther would never be so kind. Uther would not see beauty in the places that we do. Uther would not dress the wound of a sorcerer with a face like mine."

Morgana smiled weakly as Edwin wiped away a falling tear from her eye.

"Also," he said. "Uther wouldn't appreciate the writings of Hugo."

Morgana chuckled lightly through her tears. "He wouldn't love Quasimodo as I do, would he?"

Edwin smiled and shook his head. "No," he said. Morgana smiled and held Edwin's hand and leaned into it as she felt its fingers gently caress her cheek.

"Why did you come back?" he then asked.

"Because you needed me."

"More than your kingdom does?"

"It isn't my kingdom anymore. I don't even think Pendragon is my name anymore."

"What is it, then?"

"What was it that you called me when we met?"

"Le Fae."

"Why Le Fae?"

Edwin smiled and tenderly caressed her cheek. "Because the moment I saw you, I nearly took you for one. I thought you were the White Goddess. Same pale skin, jet hair and far too beautiful to walk with earthly feet."

Morgana laughed and kissed her lover, rolling herself above him. "Then I am Morgana le Fae from this day forward," she declared and kissed him thrice. "After all," she continued. "Morgana Muirden doesn't have quite as good a ring, does it?"

Edwin's brow furrowed in surprise just to hear the very name and he sat up as though to run, but he was perfectly still when he looked her in the eye. Morgana still sat astride him.

"What?" was all he could muster, but Morgana stroked his marred cheek with a sober smile. She took his hand in both of hers and kissed it like a knight to his lady.

"Edwin," she said. "You have shown me more kindness than I can ever imagine and even more beauty. You are a dear friend and companion to me, and yet it has taken me this long for me to realize just how much you mean to me. I love you, Edwin."

Edwin felt a great swell growing in the back of his throat and an even greater smile growing on his lips.

"Several times asked me to be your wife," Morgana continued. "The last time you did I begged you not to ask that of me again. And now I must ask you once if you will be my husband.

"Edwin, will you marry me?"

Edwin beamed a great smile and grabbed Morgana into a thousand kisses until they fell back to the ground. Neither of them were sure how much time had passed until he had given his answer, but it seemed evident enough through all the kisses, caresses and laughs they shared until Edwin finally said: "Yes."

It was only when dawn came that they realized that the roses around them had finally come in full bloom.


	12. Epilogue

Arthur, not long after his sister's leave, became King of Camelot after the death of Uther. After his coronation he found himself a Queen in the servant girl, Gwenivere. He wasn't quite sure why or how he fell in love with the servant when there were many other princesses of many other kingdoms, but he admired her kindness and wisdom and sometimes envied it, for he would never be so good and clever as she. Regardless of the rumours that spread around the king's affections with a mere servant girl, they lived many years in happiness. Gwenivere was happy, at least. Arthur, on the other hand, was not unhappy, as he so insisted to anyone who asked.

The news that his sister had run back to the hermit sorcerer had spread fast after her leave. Even years later the people still spoke of it. They knew not where she was or if she was even alive, only that she had run from Camelot and did not return. Some said the Son of the Dragon had killed and eaten her, others said she'd become his whore and earned her keep by sleeping with countless men, but Arthur refused to believe any of it. He just believed that she was alive and well. He had to. It had now been seven long and tediously peaceful years in Camelot and he had not heard a word from her since her last goodbye. He used to share everything with his sister and yet he had not even received a letter from her. He had tried writing, but not even the finest of carrier pigeons in Camelot were able to find her.

Then the day came when he and his men went out on a hunt and two very familiar-looking children, a boy and a girl in rags with black hair and blue eyes, had found him. The girl had on her shoulder a great raven that caused Arthur's heart to skip a beat, not for its claws or size, but for how much it resembled an old pet of his sister's.

"Ambrosius?"

The little boy and girl approached the king. "Are you a knight?" the girl asked.

Arthur nodded. "Among other things, yes."

"Then you can help us!" the girl squeaked and the boy explained: "We're hunting for a monster. Can you help us find it?"

Arthur thought. Whatever this monster was, he was certain it would bring him closer to what he was looking for and he answered: "I'm always willing to help."

The children brought him to creep through the woods in search of the monster they were hunting. They whispered to him of how great it was and how frightening. Soon, a very human-like shape of furs lying quietly past the path was found and the little girl placed a finger to her lips, to which Arthur nodded with the same gesture and watched as she crept towards it, leaving the raven to her brother. Before she could even touch the creature, it shape came to life in a very different shape of a black-haired woman and roared as she grabbed the giggling girl, smothering her with kisses. The little boy ran after his sister and was too embraced by the woman. The raven watched them and flapped his wings, jumping up and down as though for joy as he squawked. Arthur watched in confusion until he heard the name of "mama" among the children.

He felt his heart miss a beat when he saw the woman's face.

"Morgana!" he gasped.

Morgana stopped her roughhousing with the children and looked to the barely recognizable king. Her smile faded, but did not disappear entirely. She froze a moment and looked her brother up and down. Arthur could barely say a word, too perplexed to find even one, but the children looked up at their mother in confusion.

"Mordred," she said to the boy and "Jaden" to the girl. "Why don't you two go inside and see how papa is doing? I'll be with you in a moment."

The children nodded and obeyed their mother with Ambrosius following them.

"Hello, Arthur," she finally said to the speechless king, who could only watch as the children ran through the woods out of earshot, laughing and playing as they went.

"You're a mother."

"And a wife," she said with a simple nod. "And you're a king. Congratulations."

Arthur smiled, but did not feel the need for her blessings. Being king now seemed nothing compared to being an uncle. All those years of wondering where and how she was and it never once occurred to him that he had become an uncle. He felt his throat swell.

"Why don't you come inside?" Morgana asked. "I'll pour you a glass."

Morgana lead Arthur to the abandoned castle he remembered from long ago, but he did not recall the roses on its vines being so bright. The children hugged their mother as though they hadn't seen her in years, telling her of their papa's new scientific discovery and Arthur felt his heart leap to see their scarred father walking towards them. Edwin smiled and kissed Morgana, but froze when he saw Arthur. His eyes turned cold and his smile quickly fell.

"Edwin Muirden," Arthur said foolishly and Edwin bowed politely. "Milord," was his only response.

When they were at the table by a lit fire ("I've grown used to it," Edwin explained with a sad smile when Arthur asked of it, to which a secret smile was shared between him and his wife), Morgana poured a goblet of wine for her brother, her husband and herself while the children went on playing. Their conversation started lightly, though Edwin was quiet, but Arthur just was happy to speak to his sister for the first time in years.

It wasn't long into the conversation that Edwin and Morgana told Arthur their story. They were married less than a year after Morgana had left Camelot, around the same as Arthur's coronation. It was a Druid wedding and a quiet one at that. They did not mention Uther's death, but it seemed as though they didn't even care to. Mordred and Jaden were born not long before their parents' wedding. Both were born with their mother's hair and their father's eyes, but their smiles were their own. When they were little they were almost impossible to tell apart, but they were so different from one another that one would never guess they were even siblings.

Jaden was born first and was named after Edwin's mother. She was a lively and spirited girl. There was never a day that passed that she wouldn't be running through the woods with Ambrosius by her side in search of adventures. She especially loved finding them with her mother, who would always run by her side, find where she was hidden or play the monster to her knight. However, there was always time to be spent with her father reading her the story of Quasimodo and Esmeralda when she grew weary of a day's journey.

Mordred was the younger twin, who took more after his father. His name was Morgana's idea, but Edwin, as his son grew older, found it more and more ironic that his name meant "bravery. " Mordred was a quiet, gentle and solitary boy with little need for bravery, but he had a great thirst for knowledge, which his parents, his father especially, were more than happy to quench. He would always be found reading books or observing his father's work. There was always time, though, to play knights with his sister while their mother would play the dragon and sometimes their father the captive.

Morgana was happy and so was Edwin. When Arthur looked to them and around him, he suddenly wondered: why wouldn't they be? They were happily married. They had two beautiful children. They had a home of their own without gossip surrounding them. Why wouldn't they be happy? Arthur found himself smiling against his will when he looked to his niece and nephew, only just realizing how much his little niece looked like her mother.

"They're beautiful," he smiled.

"Aren't they?" Morgana said. Not since before her leave had Arthur heard such love in her voice. "They'll be seven soon."

When Arthur saw a proud smile on his brother in law's face, it was as though the scars were no longer there. He no longer saw the Son of the Dragon, but the husband to his dear sister and father of his niece and nephew.

Which reminded him…

"Father passed away," he finally said. "Just a few years ago. A fever."

"I know," Morgana said coolly. "I'm sorry to hear it."

She did not sound the least bit sorry, for which Arthur did not blame her at all.

"I've also heard that you are married too."

Arthur smiled. "I am. To the Lady Gwenivere."

"My old maidservant?"

"Yes."

"And do you love her?"

"With all my heart."

Morgana smiled and looked to Edwin, who smiled back. "And you worried of my marrying the 'Son of the Dragon.'" She said the nickname so mockingly that it seemed to lose its bitterness. "Was it just as scandalous a marriage as ours?" she then asked.

Arthur nodded. "At first," he said. "Yes, but the people have grown to love her just as I do. She's a good and just Queen who cares for the people."

"That's good. You have my blessings."

Arthur could not sip his wine even as the married pair before him did. The silence was terrible. He hated to have to tell her the news of the scandal, but he did so anyhow. He regretted it even before he opened his mouth. "The people of Camelot still talk of you," he said.

Morgana's smile fell and she looked to her husband.

"Your running away caused a scandal," Arthur continued. "One far worse than my marrying a servant girl. They've been saying that you're dead or that you've become Edwin's whore."

Edwin stiffened and seethed at the last word. Arthur had expected him to either strike at him or march out in a rage, but he just looked to Morgana, who's smile had fallen and eyes had darkened.

"Let them gossip," she finally said. "The scandal is their problem, not ours."

"You could still go back, Morgana. Uther is gone. You could come back home and live in peace. You could clear the scandal and give your children a better home."

"They already have one. I'm not going back there, Arthur. I will not have my children live the way I did, least of all my daughter. Jaden deserves better than to do what she's told."

There was a moment of sad silence between them until Edwin reached to hold Morgana's hand. Arthur watched as Morgana stroked her husband's hand and looked to him with a smile as he kissed her palm. It was an action that left Arthur quite amazed. He'd never seen such a smile from his sister.

Arthur gave an understanding smile to his sister and looked to where his niece and nephew were playing. "They must be very lucky to have such parents."

Edwin and Morgana shared a look that warmed Arthur's heart. It gave him great happiness to see his sister's eyes light up. "Would you like to meet them?" she asked.

Arthur nodded and followed his sister and brother-in-law to where the twins played. "Mordred!" she called. "Jaden! Come here, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

The twins looked up from their game with the biggest, bluest eyes that Arthur had ever seen. Morgana knelt down between them and presented their uncle to them. "This," she said, "is my brother, Arthur. Your uncle."

Arthur smiled to the children with a reluctant hello and, to his great surprise, was invited to play with them. He did and spent much of the evening doing so. They played for what felt like mere minutes until their mother interrupted to put them to bed. It was only at that point that he'd realized how quickly night had fallen. Arthur watched as his sister sang his niece and nephew to sleep in a language he did not understand. Whatever she was singing sounded beautiful. Arthur looked back to his unlikely brother-in-law, who was also watching over his wife and children.

"You must be proud," he said to him.

Edwin smiled as he poured two goblets. "I am," he said. "I have been since they were born."

Edwin offered Arthur a full goblet of wine, which he was hesitant to take. Edwin studied him carefully as he did so and took a gentle sip from the goblet. He smiled and gulped down the wine.

"I know I'm not the brother-in-law you asked for," he said. "Not a knight or prince of any kind."

Arthur nodded. "No, you're not," he admitted. "If anything, I expected Morgana never to marry anyone at all, least of all a hermit sorcerer."

Edwin hung his head and nodded.

"But I see the way she looks at you now," Arthur continued. "And the way you look at her. I've never seen my sister so happy. Can't say I blame her."

"Did you ever blame her?"

Arthur thought a moment. "I think I did once, but now I see her with you and your children. Somehow it makes this old place feel like heaven compared to Camelot. I can see why she likes it so much."

Arthur looked to Edwin with a smile on his face. When he smiled back it seemed as though the scars on his face were never there to begin with.

"Edwin," he said, raising his hand for Edwin to shake. "I fully accept you as my brother-in-law. I want you to know that."

Edwin looked hesitantly at Arthur's hand, but soon smiled, placed his cup down and shook his brother-in-law's hand. "I do," he said. "And I accept you as mine."

The two men shook hands as brothers-in-law.

"There," Morgana said. "Jaden will be up before dawn, as usual, and Mordred after, still snoring like his father does."

"I must go," he said with great regret. "My knights will be waiting for me."

Morgana smiled sadly and nodded. Arthur felt his throat swell when he smiled back. Morgana was the first to hug him farewell and she stayed in his arms for a long moment before she had to pull away. He kissed his sister on the cheek and shook his brother-in-law's hand before mounting his horse and saying his last goodbye. He knew that he would see her again, but he also knew that it would take a very long time for that to happen. It didn't trouble him.

When he had reached his knights, half of them were relieved to find him at last and the other half of them angry that he'd been gone so long. When he was asked by several of them where he had been, he simply smiled and marched towards Sir Gwaine.

"I think I have found True Beauty, Sir Gwaine," he finally said. "It's taken me long, but I believe I've finally found it."

Gwaine knit his brow with a mischievous curve forming at his lips. "Where did you find it, then?"

"In the thorns of the rose."


End file.
